Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (12 page)

Lydia suddenly sat straighter. She worried her bottom lip, which told Elizabeth her sister had a confession of sorts to divulge.

“I pray you shall not be angry with me. I did not know when you might return, and certainly did not wish Aunt Gardiner to be my attendant. I would prefer Kitty, but Papa refused Kitty’s coming to London.” Lydia paused before saying, “I asked Mary to serve as one of our witnesses.”

“I could not be more delighted,” Elizabeth said with all honesty. “It was kind of you to involve our sister. Mary is quite special in her own way.” Elizabeth held no desire to observe her youngest sister marry Mr. Wickham. She would say a prayer of thanksgiving not to be a part of the actual ceremony. When she stood, Elizabeth motioned Mr. Wickham to remain seated. “Now, if you will pardon me, I should find Uncle and inform him of my time with the Hacker household.”

As Elizabeth climbed the stairs to her quarters, her mind drifted again to the look of devastation upon Mr. Darcy’s countenance when she spoke of spending time in Mr. Wickham’s quarters. Elizabeth meant to damage his pride, but she did not think the gentleman would know such pain. Witnessing it, she wished to reach out to him–to comfort him.

“Foolish chit,” she murmured in self-chastisement. “It is all part of the act. The man cares nothing for you.”

* * *

Ten days passed since Elizabeth departed with the colonel. Darcy returned to his duties, but without much enthusiasm. He sent Mr. Gardiner a note stating his and Georgiana’s health required Darcy’s remaining at Pemberley rather than returning to London to witness the wedding. Knowing Elizabeth would likely remain in Town for Miss Lydia’s nuptials, Darcy absented himself from the ceremony.

“Odd that I would prefer to encounter Mr. Wickham more than the woman I love.”

He ran his fingers distractedly through his hair while making a poor attempt in updating his ledgers. None of the symptoms of the illness remained, other than the occasional queasiness in his stomach, which Darcy suspected had more to do with the pangs of unrequited love than the measles.

“A letter, Sir.” Mr. Nathan carried in the post upon a silver salver before exiting.

Darcy caught up the thick letter and turned it over to read the direction. He recognized the script, and his heart fluttered in his chest: It was from Elizabeth’s uncle.

“The deed is done; Miss Lydia has a husband,” Darcy whispered as he broke the seal and opened the folded over pages.

Within, Mr. Gardiner elaborated upon the unrepentant attitude of the “happy couple,” but the gentleman assured Darcy all the terms they negotiated with and upon Mr. Wickham’s behalf were executed as promised.

Even though they have but a few days to spare, Mrs. Wickham insisted upon her and the newly minted officer calling upon her family before parting for the North. Mrs. Bennet was most anxious to greet her daughter’s new husband, and so my brother Bennet sent his carriage for the couple. Naturally, Elizabeth and Mary returned to Longbourn also. Mrs. G and I will miss their sweet ways with the children.

“So she returns to the bosom of her family,” Darcy murmured. “I pray Miss Elizabeth finds happiness.”

The next part of the letter praised Darcy’s intervention in the Bennet family’s trials and held a promised devotion to Darcy’s self. Although Darcy thought that he did not deserve Gardiner’s kindness, he expected such sentiments from Elizabeth’s uncle, who was quite a remarkable gentleman. Yet, it was the last paragraph, which had Darcy’s heartbeat hitching upward.

Our Lizzy has not been her customary vivacious self since her return from Derbyshire. Mrs. G. believes our niece concerned for your full recovery, and neither of us think it would be inappropriate if you wrote to Lizzy at Longbourn to assure E of your continued health. We would never have permitted E to travel to Derbyshire if Lizzy did not insist that you renewed your proposal and that, as a couple, you simply awaited the Wickhams’ joining before you made the announcement public. As you are betrothed, an exchange of letters would be acceptable. There is no need to worry each other because of the necessary distance of the moment.

E. Gardiner

“Betrothed?” Darcy did not know whether to be angry at Elizabeth’s conniving or to celebrate her creativity. “Needless to say, Mr. Gardiner suspects something of Miss Elizabeth’s perfidy.” Darcy shook his head in amused disbelief. “Even if I wrote to Elizabeth, she would burn the letter without reading it. No,” he said as he placed Gardiner’s letter to the side to return to his ledgers. “I will not provide Miss Elizabeth the pleasure of rejecting me yet again.”

Darcy dipped his pen in the ink and began to add the transactions regarding Mr. Wickham’s marriage to his books, but the recording had him thinking of the manner in which Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat when Darcy edged her into his arms.

“Elizabeth is not immune to me.”

Distracted, Darcy returned the pen to the well. He leaned into the leather of his favorite chair while he examined the possibility.

“If I simply show up on Elizabeth’s doorstep, the lady will call off the false betrothal without considering a lifetime together. Her pride would never permit Elizabeth to admit her error,” Darcy reasoned. “Yet, Elizabeth risked everything to know more of my health. I cannot permit her to claim ruin simply because we argued over something insignificant.”

Darcy allowed the idea to take root.

“I do express myself better in writing,” he mused. “Perhaps I could woo Elizabeth without her knowing my purpose.”

Darcy began to construct plans on how best to proceed.

“My initial letter should say nothing of my hopes of a reconciliation. I should simply state the obvious: The lady’s family is under the assumption we are engaged, and before Elizabeth ends our acquaintance it would be best if we continued the farce for a time because too many people know of her coming to Pemberley under the guise of being my betrothed.” Darcy liked that idea. “No manipulations. Simple logic. The honesty Miss Elizabeth claims she desires in a man. Elizabeth will respond with an agreement to continue the sham for a bit longer or demand my withdrawal.” Darcy chuckled. “The ball returns to your court, Elizabeth Bennet. Shall you continue to play the game or forfeit?”

“You sent for me, Papa?”

Elizabeth found her father buried behind a stack of books. Since Mrs. Bennet’s returned to her duties at Longbourn, Mr. Bennet retreated further into his isolation.

“Yes.” He pointed to a letter resting upon a stack of books. “You have an admirer.”

With as much calmness as she could muster, Elizabeth crossed the room to snatch up the post.

“From Charlotte or Aunt Gardiner?”

Yet, before her father could respond, the familiar script set Elizabeth’s hands trembling.

“From your reaction, I assume you know the sender, and you will not attempt to convince me the letter came from a female. A gentleman’s script lacks the delicate touch of Mrs. Collins or your aunt.” Her father did not chastise, but dissatisfaction laced his tone.

“It is from Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said obediently.

“And the gentleman believes it acceptable to correspond with my unmarried daughter because…”

“I did not ask him to write to me,” Elizabeth protested. “In fact, when we parted last, we spoke most ill to each other.”

“And where did this ill parting take place?”

Her father did not move a muscle or raise his voice, which set Elizabeth’s nerves off kilter.  She knew immediately that in her rush to deny knowledge of Mr. Darcy’s correspondence she admitted her latest deception.

“Pemberley.”

“Pemberley? I see. And this parting occurred recently?”

“A fortnight before Mary and I returned to Longbourn.”

A long silence had Elizabeth shifting her weight self-consciously.

“I suspect your being at Pemberley had something to do with the illness, which followed Mr. Darcy to Pemberley.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Her father shook his head in disbelief.

“I am confused, Elizabeth, in regards to your relationship with Mr. Darcy. For many months while the gentleman resided with Mr. Bingley at Netherfield, you decried Mr. Darcy’s worth as a man, but after your journey to Kent, your disdain softened. Most recently you admitted Mr. Darcy proved to you the depth of Mr. Wickham’s wayward tendencies long before this situation with Lydia occurred. Your Uncle Gardiner says Mr. Darcy proposed to you twice.” Elizabeth’s shoulders sank further with each of her father’s assertions. “You permitted the man to think you carried Wickham’s child in order to provoke Mr. Darcy into assisting us in locating Wickham. According to your uncle, you told the Gardiners, you accepted Mr. Darcy’s most recent proposal so you might race off to tend to his health.” With a sigh of resignation, her father added, “I always thought you the most intelligent of my children. Now, I discover you are more of the nature of Kitty and Lydia.”

Disappointing her father brought Elizabeth as much pain as losing Mr. Darcy.

“Guilty as charged,” she whispered.

Her father stood and crossed from behind his desk to catch Elizabeth up in his embrace.

“Tell me, Lizzy, if you care for this man. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man, but this would be nothing if you really liked him.”

The tears Elizabeth withheld from the time she walked away from Pemberley came pouring out.

“It would not matter,” she admitted on a hiccup of sobs, “if I wished the acquaintance. A man once shunned…will not…seriously claim…a woman whose connections to Mr. Wickham would bring her shame.”

“Even so, the man played with your affections.” The hardness lacing her father’s tone was not often heard at Longbourn.

“We argued.” Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief her father provided without her asking. “I appeared upon Mr. Darcy’s doorstep, but the gentleman ordered me removed. Mr. Darcy wished nothing to do with me.”

Her father set her at arm’s length from him.

“Did you leave when Mr. Darcy sent you away?”

“No. Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed out I could not take a public coach for we all knew the sick room for several days. We were not ill, but who is to say if my presence on the public coach would not spread the disease?”

“How long did you reside under Mr. Darcy’s roof?”

Elizabeth did not understand her father’s questions.

“Some four days.”

“I see.” Her father returned to his desk. “What will you do with Mr. Darcy’s letter? Will you read it?”

“If you prefer I return it unopened, I shall do so. Or I could burn it,” Elizabeth offered.

Her father’s features appeared grave.

“I know you, Lizzy. You wish to learn of Mr. Darcy’s reason for writing to you.”

A red flush crept up her neck.

“I do.”

Mr. Bennet sucked in a quick breath.

“I will tolerate the correspondence for the time being, but we must keep your relationship to Mr. Darcy secret. If Mrs. Bennet learns of it, there will be no peace at Longbourn until I demand a duel to protect your honor.”

Silence rose between them.

“I shall not disappoint you again, Papa,” Elizabeth whispered into the quiet.

“Ask Mr. Darcy in the future to address his posts to ‘Mr. T J P Bennet.’ Few know my full Christian name. I will know it is he and present the letter to you. Continue the correspondence or end it. The decision is yours, Lizzy, but know, either way, you remain my dearest child.”

* * *

After assisting Mrs. Hill to tie and hang the herbs from the garden, Elizabeth made her way to the privacy of her chambers. She knew Mr. Bingley escorted Jane upon a ride in the gentleman’s new gig, and she would be alone. Climbing upon her bed, Elizabeth placed the letter before her to examine the flow of Mr. Darcy’s script. The gentleman wrote the way he lived: with confidence and pride. At length, she broke the wax seal to find two pages.

11 September 1812

Miss Elizabeth,    

Although I am certain this is not a letter you welcome, I thought it prudent we have further conversation. From both Colonel F and your uncle, I learned you broke with propriety to come to my aid. For this kindness I am forever grateful. Even before the death of my parents, it was I who provided the care to those I most affect. I am unaccustomed to others seeing to my welfare.

“Apologize,” Elizabeth pleaded. “Explain what went awry if you are grateful for my attentions.” Yet, the frustrating man did not speak more on her intrusion into his quarters.

For many months, I hoped to host you under my roof–to show you Pemberley’s grounds–to entertain you in its music room and to share Pemberley’s many vistas. Yet, the circumstances robbed us of those memories, leaving behind the taste of bitterness.

“I did not come to Derbyshire to enjoy its splendor,” Elizabeth whispered to her broken heart. “I came because I could do nothing less–because you were there and ill.” She dashed away a single tear upon her cheek.

Recently you charged me with the duty of speaking honestly, and so I will. Although our relationship is often provoking, it also knew moments of tenderness and understanding. I believe the latter is grounds for a connection.

In truth, the pretext you practiced to oversee my care is well known at Pemberley and in the Gardiner household. As such, many believe us betrothed. We might ignore those rumors if you did not travel with the colonel to Derbyshire and did not stay at inns often used by the Fitzwilliam and Darcy families–if my staff did not know of your previous visits to Pemberley–if you did not demand access to my quarters from my housekeeper–if I did not order Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Sheffield to remove you from my sick room–if we did not argue before two maids and a footman–if you did not insist before others that you would never return to the private quarters–if I did not stubbornly refuse to see you upon your journey to London–if you did not deny a visit with Miss Darcy–if you did not swear to my offer of marriage before you set out for Derbyshire–and if I did not neglect to announce our engagement.

Even though you likely hold no desire to place your life under my protection, there are issues present, which demand our attention. Whether either of us cares to admit it or not, your reputation could be as tattered as Mrs. Wickham’s if we do not act. Mr. Bingley is a devoted suitor to Miss Bennet, but Bingley still desires an entrance into Society. If Miss Bennet possessed two sisters who knew ruination, it would make it more difficult for my friend to act upon his desire. And what of your younger sisters? What future would they claim if another scandal plagues your family? More importantly, what would your ruination say to Society of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet? How will others judge your parents?

Therefore, I propose we continue the farce, at least for the time being. We will exchange letters regularly, an act only the betrothed are permitted. In doing so, we have the time to learn more of each of other. Perhaps at the end, we will discover we do not suit. Yet, there is also the possibility we may choose to join for life. I await your response.   

FD

Elizabeth expected many circumstances, but not the one presented in Mr. Darcy’s letter. There was no passion. No words of love or censure. Only one line where he spoke of the least bit of affection.

“Mr. Darcy proposes a marriage of convenience! What more did you expect after performing in such a gormless fashion? You squelched any affection the gentleman once held for you! Well, I shall not do it!” Elizabeth refolded the letter and stuffed it in a drawer so no one else might read it. She did not permit herself to recognize that if she truly meant to deny Mr. Darcy her response, she would burn the dratted letter. In truth, Elizabeth could no more part with this second letter than she could the first one.

Aloud, she protested the gentleman’s injustice.

“I cannot spend a lifetime at Mr. Darcy’s side and pretend my heart not engaged!” Elizabeth lay back upon the bed to close her eyes. “I would rather remain a social outcast than to know less than love.”

* * *

Despite reading Mr. Darcy’s letter more often than she would admit, Elizabeth did not respond. Like his previous letter, she was in a fair way of knowing this second one by heart. She studied every sentence, and her feelings toward its writer were at times widely different. When Elizabeth recalled their encounters at Pemberley, indignation claimed her; yet, his dedication to discovering Mr. Wickham and Lydia remained exemplary. Often Elizabeth’s anger turned against herself for permitting her heart to lead her head–for destroying what once held great promise, and Elizabeth felt no inclination to see Mr. Darcy again.

“How could I face him? It is best if we hold no connections, and marriage is the deepest of connections,” Elizabeth cautioned, but then as was her nature, she turned her thoughts to sarcasm. “Of course, a marriage of convenience would be the easiest means to avoid a disagreeable husband.”

The thought had but taken root when Elizabeth turned a corner of the house to discover her mother bent forward at the waist and sobbing.

“Mama!” she rushed forward to place her arm about her mother’s shoulder. “What is amiss? Are you ill? Is it your nerves?”

A flush of embarrassment claimed Mrs. Bennet’s cheeks.

“I did not mean to frighten you, Lizzy,” she said in apology. “It is just your mother being her customary insensible self.” Her mother stood straighter, but Elizabeth noted the self-chastisement remained.

“Come sit with me in the arbor,” Elizabeth encouraged. “We shall be insensible together. I sincerely miss the games you once invented to entertain us girls.” She tugged upon her mother’s hand.

Mrs. Bennet paused but a brief moment before following.

“I should return to the manor. There is much to be done,” her mother protested.

“Nothing that cannot wait a few minutes. We so rarely have moments to reminisce,” Elizabeth insisted. “Look! There are patches of clover.” She did not know what she meant to convey with pointless chatter, but Elizabeth knew something of import bothered her mother. “Do you recall how you made endless chains of flowers for Jane’s and Mary’s and my hair?”

Her mother stared off as if seeing the scene playing before her eyes.

“Jane adored them as if they were tiaras, but Mary found nothing whimsical in them.”

“And what of me?” Elizabeth asked.

Mrs. Bennet patted the back of Elizabeth’s hand.

“You preferred for me to form the flowers into chainmail. You were always the adventurer–the one who chose her own way. You reminded me of that particular fact most recently when you refused Mr. Collins.” Her mother sighed heavily. “I should not have insisted upon your acceptance of Mr. Collins’s hand. I knew you would not suit.”

“Yet, the alliance would secure our futures,” Elizabeth reasoned. “I acted with selfishness.”

“I considered the matter much while I was abed with my nerves. Instead of you, I should have directed Mr. Collins toward Mary. Your sister would be a better match for Mr. Collins, and Longbourn would know a Bennet in its future.” Elizabeth would not wish Mr. Collins on any of her sisters, but she would agree that Mary’s nature was similar to Charlotte Collins’s in many ways. Her mother added softly, “I failed to secure the estate by delivering an heir for Mr. Bennet.”