His Uncle's Favorite (28 page)

“Are you ready? You are, as I can see! Well, allow my men to take the luggage. Oh, did you see Mr. Wickham? Can you imagine the coincidence? I happened to meet him on my way here; he was about to return to Meryton today by post! I invited him to join us. I was sure Miss Elizabeth would be pleased.”

“Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I would by no means disturb you. Please tell me if my presence is an inconvenience; I can very well travel by post.”

“Oh, nonsense, we can use another man— if only for helping us if we get stuck on the way. Strange coincidence indeed—have you been in town all this time?” inquired Mr. Bennet.

Elizabeth’s head was spinning, and she was tempted to ask her father to reject Mr. Wickham’s presence. What was he doing there? She was certain it was no coincidence; only Mr. Bingley’s kind heart could believe such a poor excuse. How did Wickham discover they were about to return home? And what was his purpose in joining them? She was about to enter the carriage when her father’s voice stopped her.

“Mr. Darcy! So good to see you, sir! Another minute and you would have missed us!”

Elizabeth stared at Darcy, and she could not conceal her joy at seeing him—nor did she wish to. She smiled at him, and he greeted her with a polite bow and warm smile. A moment later, his countenance paled and his eyes turned dark and cold.

“Darcy…what a surprise to see you,” said Mr. Wickham, but Darcy turned to Mr. Bennet, completely ignoring Wickham.

“I am glad I arrived in time, Mr. Bennet. I wish you good bye and a safe trip home.”

“Thank you. I hope we shall see you soon in Hertfordshire.”

“I… I am not certain yet, but I shall inform you…Bingley, I mean…”

“Darcy, you know you are always welcome—no need to inform anyone. You may come when you please!” said Mr. Bingley.

“Arrange to come when you are least expected, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Bennet laughed. “I know I am doing so, and it is much more amusing.”

“I shall try to follow your advice,” Mr. Darcy attempted to joke with little success.

Elizabeth was still not able to move. She looked at Darcy, searching for a way to dissipate the sadness from his face. What might he think to see Wickham there? And she would not have the chance to speak to him and explain…

“Miss Elizabeth, have a safe trip home,” he whispered and turned to leave.

“Mr. Darcy!” She did not allow her mind to consider properly what she intended to do. “Sir, if you have a moment, there is a matter of some urgency that I would discuss with you. I forgot to tell Georgiana earlier, and—”

He moved a step back, surprised and puzzled. She looked around; Wickham and her father were only a few steps away, but she needed to speak to him.

“Miss Elizabeth, it is quite late and cold, and it has started to snow again. You should not stay outside …” Wickham intervened.

“It is cold indeed,” said Mr. Bennet as he entered the carriage. “Lizzy, you should go inside and speak to Mr. Darcy if you wish. But no more than a moment; we must leave!”

“A moment will be enough,” she said, and with a quick glance at Darcy, she returned to the house. Darcy followed her. In the main hall, they stared at each other: he, wondering what urgent matter must be said, and she, struggling to begin.

“Mr. Darcy, I just wish to assure you that I carefully read your letter,” she tentatively began, and his puzzlement only increased.
The letter?

“I would like to thank you—again—for your trust and to assure you that there is no need for the colonel to testify on your behalf. I do not doubt a single word of that letter, and everything you had the kindness to tell me was taken to heart. I have been wrong in my first impression of certain people, but that is all corrected now.”

He finally understood. He looked at her in silence, and then he tried to force a smile.

“What is Wickham doing here? Forgive me, I know I have no right to inquire, but believe me, my reason is only your safety—and your family’s, of course.”

“He just arrived… He pretended he planned to return to Meryton and met Mr. Bingley by chance. Of course, Mr. Bingley had no other choice than to invite him to join us.”

“It was no coincidence; nothing is a coincidence with Wickham.”

“I am well aware of that and”—she put her hand on his arm— “I thank you for your concern, sir. It is much appreciated but I dare say unnecessary. My father and Mr. Bingley will be there. What could happen?”

“You are correct, of course… Would you… Georgiana would be happy to receive a letter from you as soon as you arrive home.”

“And I shall be happy to write it. I must leave now. Would you assist me to the carriage?”

“Certainly.” Her hand was still on his arm, and he gently covered it with his own. They carefully stepped down the main stairs and approached the carriage.

Inside, Jane and her father were on one seat with Mr. Bingley and Wickham opposite them. The latter opened the carriage door.

“Miss Elizabeth, take my hand,” he said, making room for her to sit near him.

“I thank you, but I already have Mr. Darcy’s hand,” she said as she sat by her sister.

When she was in, Mr. Darcy’s hand was still holding hers. She glanced at him and saw his face lit by an attempt to smile. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

“You are most welcome. Have a safe trip, and please convey my greetings to your family.” He then closed the carriage door and remained in front of Mrs. Gardiner’s house, following the carriage with a worried gaze until it disappeared from sight.

Inside the carriage, Elizabeth closed her eyes, and for the first hour, she spoke very little, pretending to sleep. She could hear Mr. Bingley and Jane talking, and her father intervening from time to time. More than once, she recognised Mr. Wickham’s animated, amused voice, mentioning Mr. Darcy’s name—once, twice, three times…then again.

Elizabeth could not be certain how much time had passed before Mr. Bennet decided to interrupt Wickham’s discourse.

“Mr. Wickham, I greatly appreciate your talent at entertaining us with little, amusing stories of your misfortunes. However, if you say another word against Mr. Darcy, I shall ask Mr. Bingley to drop you at the next inn. Travelling by post is not so bad, after all…”

Chapter 12

There was no doubt that Mrs. Bennet missed her daughters dearly and was content to see them back home, but nothing could compare with her happiness at the sight of Mr. Bingley. It was without doubt Mrs. Bennet’s best day in many years.

Elizabeth felt relieved that Mr. Bingley was an amiable and tolerant gentleman, or else he would have hastily departed for Netherfield. Instead, he expressed his delight in seeing Mrs. Bennet again and eagerly accepted her impromptu invitation for dinner, as he could appreciate the advantage of a meal in the midst of pleasant company versus dining alone.

As soon as she retired to the comfort of her room, Elizabeth remembered her promise to write Miss Darcy—not that she would have forgotten for a moment. Nor could she forget Mr. Darcy’s insistent gaze when he gently suggested she inform them as soon as she arrived safely. He was worried for her—that was obvious! He was worried, caring and understanding, and he seemed elated that she had read his letter and trusted it. Surely, she could do as much as to write his sister a short letter immediately.

A sharp knock on her door interrupted her, and she was surprised to see her father requesting entrance.

“Certainly, Papa! What is it?”

“It is about Wickham. I know he was your favourite, but he really irritated me. I sense a sort of duplicity in his behaviour, and I truly dislike his continuous references to how badly Darcy persecuted him. It has become quite tedious. I could tolerate him reasonably well in the past when I had the liberty of retiring to my library, but I found it impossible to bear him in a small carriage. I hope I was not offensive; I would not wish to spoil your pleasure of dancing with him in the future.”

She felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment, and she forced a laugh.

“I thank you for your concern, Father. I am sure I will manage at the next ball even if I have no partner. I think your words to Mr. Wickham were well deserved. I used to consider Mr. Wickham a friend, but that changed some time ago. I am ashamed to admit that I was wrong in my first impression of his character.”

“Good—for a while, I was worried that you resembled your mother and youngest sisters more than I would like. My mind is at ease. I think I shall go and rest a little. Oh, I forgot—please do me a favour and send a letter to Mr. Darcy.”

“Excuse me? I cannot write a letter to Mr. Darcy! Papa, are you teasing me?”

“Oh come, Lizzy, do not be missish. Just drop him a few words in my name to inform him we arrived safely and apologise that I cannot write him myself. My eyes hurt, and I am in no mood to write, but I think I owe him as much. He was considerate to come and say good-bye, and I appreciate his concern; he seemed genuinely worried about our trip. I tell you, that young man is a continual surprise to me. He is uncommonly kind and friendly, considering our brief acquaintance.”

“Very well, Papa. In truth, I was about to write Georgiana, so I suppose I could send a short note for Mr. Darcy, too.”

“Thank you, my child.” He took a few steps and then suddenly returned. “By the way, Lizzy, I am quite curious—what was the urgent thing you wanted to tell Mr. Darcy? If it is not too great a secret…”

She froze and for a moment was lost for words. She stared at her father, both waiting. She bit her lower lip, desperately seeking a convenient answer.

“I… It was not such a great secret but…I did not want Mr. Wickham to hear us.”

“Oh?” Mr. Bennet’s puzzlement mixed with apparent interest.

“I…I have to confess that Mr. Darcy and I spoke quite a lot while I was in London…and we talked a little about Mr. Wickham. Mr. Darcy kindly offered me a bit of information that helped me to understand that Mr. Wickham’s easy cordiality is not always genuine. And…when Mr. Darcy saw Mr. Wickham in our carriage, I was certain he would be displeased…and I thought he deserved to know that I did not take his words lightly and it was not I—we—who invited Mr. Wickham to join our group.”

“I see…well, well—such a surprise. Not Wickham—I could have told you the same without knowing the details—but Mr. Darcy talking to you about Wickham. I would not expect that, considering he seems to be a very private man. I think you did well in speaking to him before our departure if only because your secret conversation made Wickham angry! So amusing, truly! I shall go to sleep now. Please remember to write Mr. Darcy, though I somehow doubt there will be any danger of your forgetting.”

He left with a last glance at his daughter; by that time, Elizabeth was sitting in the chair, silent again and positively flustered. Mr. Bennet felt too tired to think properly of everything he just discovered, but there would be time in the next few days. He felt more pleased and lively than he had been in many years.

Elizabeth finished her letter to Georgiana and folded it carefully. Then she took another sheet and breathed deeply before she started.

Mr. Darcy,

Allow me to convey my father’s apologies for being unable to write this letter himself and to inform you that we have arrived home safely after an uneventful trip. Everything was perfectly fine on the road as well as at Longbourn, and we kindly thank you for your concern.

She read the short note and found it cold and impersonal, but she did not dare write anything more private. Yet, if she were to receive such a letter, she would be disappointed. She thought for a bit, put the paper aside, then took it again and added:

You must not worry that my father did not write this letter personally. He is quite well; his eyes are just a little tired from the delightful effort of enjoying, during the entire trip, one of the books you kindly loaned him. I am afraid he is a little too eager to finish each book as soon as possible in order to move on to the next, an eagerness quite easy to understand.

I thank you for offering my father this opportunity as well as for all of your help.

Sincerely,
Elizabeth Bennet

She read it once more and folded it immediately, afraid that she might change her mind. A moment later, she handed both letters to John to be sent as soon as possible.

***

Darcy had dined alone with his sister countless times, but that night the silence seemed heavier. Neither of them appeared interested in conversation, and as soon as the meal was finished, he retired to his study while Georgiana returned to her rooms.

Darcy was pacing his office impatiently. Many things required his attention, but he could concentrate on none of them. His mind was completely occupied remembering his last conversation with Elizabeth—her last smiles, her hand resting in his, her sharp replies to Wickham, her daring invitation to speak to him privately in the presence of her own father…

She had courage and determination, and her gesture had more meaning than he first understood. She had willingly broken with propriety for his benefit only; she had nothing to gain from their brief conversation, but she insisted upon it for his sake. She guessed his distress when he saw Wickham, and she was concerned enough to seek a way to dissipate it. She also discovered a means to express her opinion about the letter and to assure him of her confidence in his words. She did all those things for him—because she cared for him! There could be no other reason!