Defending Elizabeth Page 9

  Elizabeth felt as if she was in a fog for the remainder of the day. By bedtime, she was no closer to making a decision than she was been immediately after receiving the letter. Sleep did not find Elizabeth that night for quite some time.

  * * *

  Elizabeth woke up the next day with a clearer head. She finally managed to fall asleep, and the rest did her well. It also gave her an idea as to how to proceed: since she had time before she needed to give an answer, she would spend a few days pretending she had made the decision to marry Mr. Wickham. It might give her time to work out why the idea bothered her. Then she would spend several days pretending as if she had decided to refuse him, and see how that made her feel.

  She suspected her plan would work best if she committed fully, so she decided right then she would marry Mr. Wickham. Of course, she would keep this information to herself; without a formal proposal, it would be indelicate to tell anyone even if she didn't have reservations. But in her mind, she told herself the decision was made and she would marry Wickham.

  A sense of relief rolled over Elizabeth, that she did not have to wrestle with the decision for several days. She thought of what it might be like to be Mr. Wickham's wife. First, the details: where would they live? That one was both simple and difficult to answer. They would live where the militia took them. In the summer, that would mean Brighton. In the winter, any number of villages much like Meryton. Since Mr. Wickham had recently enlisted, Elizabeth could expect this sort of transient existence for several years, at least.

  This was not to say there would not be diversions of all sorts as the wife of an officer. She saw how much leisure time the officers in Meryton had. She could expect a sufficiently full social schedule as Wickham's wife--perhaps more than sufficient.

  Would that be enough for her, though? Elizabeth's brow creased as this thought crossed her mind. It must be, for my decision is made, she told herself sternly. By marrying Mr. Wickham, she would be consigning her life to uncertainty for at least some time.

  But, she reminded herself, a marriage to Mr. Wickham is not without its advantages! She enjoyed speaking with him, and he listened to her when she spoke. Already, he had more appeal than many men, who believed women did not have a rational thought in their head. In addition, there was no way to deny he was fine to look at. She closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like to be his wife, and the prospect was not unpleasant whatsoever.

  Her mind was still not entirely calm, so she set out to do what calmed her the most: she went for a walk. Just down the lane from Rosings, she noticed a footpath that led away from the lane and decided to take it. She walked under the shade of some trees and around the corner. There she startled and stopped. Mr. Darcy held on to a fence post and shaking his boot.

  Elizabeth considered turning around and very carefully retracing her steps before he saw her. However, that solution was lost to her as he looked up and locked eyes with her.

  "Miss Bennet!" he said, putting his boot back on. "I did not expect to find you here."

  "I desired a walk," she said lamely, and inwardly flinched.

  "What a coincidence. I also wished to clear my head. Perhaps we can walk together?"

  Elizabeth desperately wracked her brain for a reason she could not, but no excuse could be found. She gave Mr. Darcy a strained smile and nodded.

  The walk began awkwardly. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy wanted to be the first to speak, so they were silent for a period. Finally, Darcy spoke.

  "Did you enjoy your dinner at Rosings the other night?" he asked.

  "It was certainly informative. I enjoyed meeting your cousin."

  "Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam is welcome wherever he goes. I am often envious of his easy charm."

  "It seems you were surrounded by charming people during your youth," said Elizabeth shortly.

  "Do you speak of Mr. Wickham?" Darcy said, an edge in his voice.

  "I do, sir. He spoke to me of what transpired between the two of you."

  "So I see you have been given a bad impression of me."

  "You gave a bad impression of yourself. Any other person would make the same judgment as I."

  "Is that what you believe?"

  "What else am I to believe? To deny a man his living out of pure jealousy! Would you like to be commended for such actions, sir?"

  "Ah, so that is what he told you. No wonder your opinion of me is so poor."

  "Did you think he would not tell me? When we are so close he has..."

  She realized she said too much and abruptly stopped speaking.

  Darcy was instantly alert. "What has he done, Miss Bennet?" he asked. "Has he made you an offer?"

  "I do not see how that is your business whatsoever. Your permission is not required, so I see no need to tell you of the state of my relationship with Mr. Wickham."

  "If he had not offered, you would deny it, so he has. Miss Bennet, I counsel caution."

  "Who are you to counsel me in anything?" said Elizabeth, her voice rising.

  "I am someone who knows your fiancé better than do you."

  "He is not my fiancé."

  "That gives me cause to hope you have not yet answered him. Do not accept him, Miss Bennet. He will ruin your life. He quite nearly ruined the life of someone who is most dear to me."

  Elizabeth stopped walking. "That is a heavy charge to lay on anyone. Do you care to tell me the history behind it?"

  "The story is not mine to tell. Please, just trust I have your best interest in mind."

  "Did you have Mr. Wickham's best interest in mind when you denied him his living?"

  "Has it occurred to you the situation to which you refer may not have happened exactly as it has been described to you?"

  "Well, that story was told to me by a man who treats me civilly, defends my honor, and thinks me more than 'barely tolerable.’ And the man who opposes it has insulted me on more than one occasion. Whom ought I to believe?"

  "I do not see what your wounded pride has to do with who is telling the truth," said Darcy, a bit hotly.

  "Of course you do not, Mr. Darcy, and that is why it is best for both of us for this conversation to end now."

  Elizabeth turned and started back towards Hunsford, angry at him for what he said and angry at herself for how much it bothered her.

  Chapter 16

  Elizabeth returned to Hunsford and made an excuse to Kitty that her head hurt. Kitty saw Elizabeth to bed and arranged for her tea to be brought to her. In all honesty, Elizabeth's head hurt from gritting her teeth together, and what she needed more than anything else was time to consider what Mr. Darcy told her.

  Why was he so devoted to making her miserable? It seemed she was not the focus of his spite; he had been ruining Mr. Wickham's life for much longer. And to try and ruin their engagement, just to hurt Wickham! Elizabeth's jaw clenched harder at the thought that Darcy, who was born with everything, would do anything within his power to damage Wickham. What an abominable person!

  Bessie, the maid, brought tea in and left it on the side table. It was all Elizabeth could do to manage a smile for her. Bessie did nothing wrong; Elizabeth realized she needed to be exceedingly careful not to take her anger out on anyone except Mr. Darcy. She barely tasted the tea as she sipped it, but enjoying the ritual nonetheless.

  If Darcy's plan was to drive her away from Wickham, he failed miserably. Anything that was good for Darcy could not possibly be good for Wickham, or, by extension, her. Elizabeth remembered back to the Netherfield Ball, where Wickham had been so eager to protect her from Darcy. Her mouth softened into a small smile. Wickham made it clear that night he would protect and defend her; were those not agreeable characteristics for a husband?

  Why, she hardly remembered her earlier concerns about Mr. Wickham. Perhaps she should find Mr. Darcy and thank him for providing her with the clarity she was lacking. Mr. Darcy's ungallant behavior had reminded her just what a gentleman Mr. Wickham was.

  As she finished her tea, Elizabeth thought u
ncharitable thoughts about how her engagement would enrage Mr. Darcy. All that work to convince her to refuse Wickham, and all he did was strengthen her decision. She smiled to herself, happy she would be bringing joy to a man like Wickham and sorrow to one like Darcy.

  * * *

  Elizabeth's chastisements of Darcy could not possibly be harsher than those in his own mind. He had planned to speak with Elizabeth for several days, but she had surprised him on the path. He had hoped to convince her Wickham was a dangerous rogue, but the conversation did not turn out at all as he intended. She insisted on being offended at every word which came out of his mouth. What was more, she completely believed the falsehoods George Wickham was spreading about him.

  Ah, Wickham: the rock in the boot Darcy could never rid himself of. He had lacked grace when he deduced Wickham had proposed to Elizabeth, but he had not lacked insight. Elizabeth believed Wickham either had or was soon to make an offer. She had not shown a single sign during their dinner at Rosings she had formed this connection; he suspected it to be a recent occurrence. But how could that be, with Elizabeth in Kent and Wickham in Hertfordshire?

  Perhaps Wickham followed Elizabeth to Rosings. Darcy could not imagine why he would do so; if Wickham hoped to confront Darcy, he would choose more neutral ground. Likewise, the trip was long, and, although the militia members seemed to spend most of their time trifling about, Darcy suspected Wickham could not be absent long enough to travel to Kent without his superior officers noticing.

  What other methods were there, then, by which Elizabeth could have bound herself to Wickham in the few days since the dinner at Rosings? There was always the post, but the impropriety of sending a letter through the post to a woman one had no current connection to--surely even George Wickham would not attempt such a thing. A large part of the reason Wickham did so well in society was his ability to pretend to be genteel. Writing a letter to a woman he was not engaged to would risk that impression.

  Perhaps he did not understand the situation properly. What if Elizabeth promised herself to Wickham prior to her trip to Kent? There were not many things Elizabeth did poorly, but he noticed she sometimes spoke without thinking of the ramifications of what she might say. He did not think she would have made it through the entire dinner, and the conversation with the Colonel afterwards, without making some sort of allusion to her engagement, whether intentional or not.

  Darcy shook his head. This idea of an engagement between them was new. Wickham had probably made the offer via the post. The only hope Darcy still possessed was that the engagement was not yet formal, and he might still have time to convince Elizabeth what a monumental mistake a marriage to Wickham would be.

  * * *

  Elizabeth made every effort to distract herself from both the frustrating conversation with Mr. Darcy and the decision she believed awaited her back in Hertfordshire. She read through all three of the novels she brought with her. She accompanied Kitty to bring supplies to the less fortunate. She even weeded around Mr. Collins' cucumber plants. However, no amount of industry could keep her mind entirely serene. If she was not worried about a conversation with one man, she was worried about a conversation with the other.

  Kitty's skills of observation increased at the same time her foolishness decreased, and she saw something bothered her sister. She waited for Elizabeth to share the burdens of her mind, but the sharing did not happen. Finally Kitty could no longer stand seeing her normally happy sister so morose. She sat Elizabeth down in the sitting room.

  "I know you received a letter a week ago. I do not have any wish to pry, but it seems to have caused you distress. If there is any way I can reduce that distress, I do hope you will tell me."

  Elizabeth promptly burst into tears. First, they were tears of frustration; then they were tears of shame for being so bothered by the fact. Kitty placed a sympathetic hand on Elizabeth's arm, and Elizabeth threw her arms around her sister and sobbed.

  "I am so embarrassed," Elizabeth finally managed to say.

  "What happened? Lizzy, please do tell me if you can. I cannot bear to see you like this."

  "I think Mr. Wickham proposed to me, but I cannot be certain," said Elizabeth, wiping her eyes.

  "Well, of all the things you might have said I was not expecting that. Can you tell me from whence this confusion arises?"

  Elizabeth felt like a dam broke inside her, and the words began to tumble out. How Mr. Wickham wrote to her. How she knew the impropriety of receiving a letter from him, but she had to know what it said. The esoteric way the letter was written and how it seemed perfectly clear and utterly confusing all at once.

  "Oh, Lizzy. I am so sorry you did not feel like you could speak with me about this."

  "It was not that. I was just trying to take some time to work out for myself how I felt before I burdened anyone else with it."

  Kitty took Elizabeth's hands. "It is never a burden to help my sister. I wish for nothing but your happiness."

  "But that is just the issue, Kitty. I cannot determine whether marriage to Mr. Wickham would make me happy, and I feel so foolish. For my entire life, I have known my own mind and disdained girls who moped about thinking of nothing but men, and now I am one of those girls! I ought not to be spending so much time thinking about this. It is quite unlike me. I was doing much better before I spoke to Mr. Darcy, but now I am more confused than ever."

  "Mr. Darcy? What has he to do with this?"

  Elizabeth told Kitty of her recent conversation with Mr. Darcy.

  "How dare he!" Elizabeth said, her tears turning to anger. "As if he has any right to advise me about...well, about anything!"

  Kitty gave her sister a troubled look. "But Lizzy, what reason does he have to try to stop your engagement?"

  "To hurt Wickham, of course."

  Kitty shook her head slowly. She had never been more logical than Elizabeth, so she instantly doubted herself, but she continued on. "Do you think Mr. Darcy would care so very much about hurting Mr. Wickham? Has he not, by Wickham's telling, already won the battle?"

  "I would not doubt he does everything in his power to continue deviling poor Wickham."

  Kitty sat still for a moment, holding her sister's hands. Then she took a deep breath and spoke.

  "Once, about a year ago, Lydia and I were heading for Meryton. Mary had told us it was to rain, but we paid her no mind. There were clouds in the sky, but they were lovely white ones. Mary suggested we take cloaks, but it was a fine day, and I had no desire to have my dress covered with a cloak for no reason. Mary became very insistent--you know how she can be--and Lydia and I raced out the door to get away from her. Halfway to Meryton, the sky opened up and we were drenched."

  Elizabeth smiled. "I believe I recall the two of you coming home looking quite damp."

  "Quite damp, indeed! Soaked to the bone. A cloak would not have kept me dry, but it would have kept much of the rain off, and I would have been much more comfortable. When we walked in the house, Mary was standing in the corner, and she gave me that superior Mary look she has.

  “If you listened,” she said, “this would not have happened.”

  “Well, a week passed and the events threatened to repeat themselves. Mary was watching, so there was no way I was going to give her the satisfaction of putting a cloak on. Lydia and I marched out the door. The sky was much more obviously dim than the previous day; any fool could see it was going to rain. But I would not allow myself to believe it, because I so desperately did not want Mary to be right.

  “We only made it a bit down the road before the rain began again, and luckily we were able to run home before we were completely soaked. I refused to even glance at Mary when Lydia and I ran through the door.

  “After that, I began wearing a cloak if it looked like rain. I sometimes saw Mary nodding with satisfaction to see I finally heeded her advice."

  Elizabeth smiled; hearing Kitty's story made her feel as if she was home once more and surrounded by her sisters.

  "Here
is the heart of the matter, Lizzy," continued Kitty. "Mary was never one ounce uncomfortable, while I was rained upon twice. My stubbornness ensured only thatI repeatedly got wet."

  "So, if I understand this correctly, I am you, Mr. Darcy is Mary, and Wickham is the rain?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Quite so!" said Kitty, relieved Elizabeth understood so quickly. "You may not want to hear what Mr. Darcy says about Mr. Wickham, Lizzy, but that does not necessarily mean he speaks a falsehood."

  Elizabeth sat back, too deep in thought to respond. What Kitty said made sense--so much sense Elizabeth could not believe she had not considered it before. She had been so convinced of Mr. Wickham's innocence and Mr. Darcy's guilt, but it was not at all like Elizabeth to make judgments with no real facts to back them up. She recalled Mr. Darcy's statement about her damaged pride, and she was ashamed to realize he might have spoken the truth. What evidence did she have otherwise? No evidence, other than Wickham's words. Wickham was a great deal more amiable than Darcy, but did that mean he was more truthful?

  There was a small voice of doubt in Elizabeth's mind, and it took the idea of Wickham being dishonest and wove all sorts of tales, playing them out in front of her. She shook her head, but that tiny voice would not be silenced. It hovered at the edge of her mind like a small splinter, causing a disproportionate amount of discomfort.

  There was only one thing that could be done about the situation. She had to speak with Darcy again. If she could find a falsehood in what he spoke of, she would know his word could not be trusted. If no falsehood was found, it did not mean Darcy was innocent. The only way she would get an answer was to catch him in a lie. Hopefully that would destroy the bit of doubt that was pestering her mind.

  "Thank you, Kitty," she said, hugging her sister. "You provided me with a clarity I did not have before."

  Kitty was relieved Elizabeth was not upset with her, but she had not the slightest clue what Elizabeth would do next. Knowing Elizabeth, though, Kitty decided it would be a good idea to keep close watch.