Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (6 page)

Darcy’s smile held a bit of devilment.

“Is there a ‘you and I,’ Miss Elizabeth?”

Tears misted her eyes when Elizabeth glanced up at him, and her bottom lip trembled.

“Of course there is no you and I, and after I confess my perfidy there never will be.”

“Would you like there to be a ‘you and I’?” Darcy lifted his brows in challenge.

Realizing what she admitted, Elizabeth shoved free of Darcy’s loose embrace.

“My wishes are of no concern of yours, Sir,” Elizabeth huffed. With her knuckles, she dashed away the remaining tears. “Mr. Darcy, I thank you for your intervention in this matter. My family is deeply in your debt, but at this juncture, it is best if Uncle Gardiner and I handle negotiations with Mr. Wickham.” Her chin rose in customary defiance.

“No.” Darcy declared. “You will not send me packing again, Elizabeth Bennet. Not after your confession of only a few moments prior. We will settle this now.”

“There is nothing to settle, Sir,” Elizabeth snapped.

Darcy closed the distance between them.

“There is the matter of your sister’s ruination,” he hissed.

“You know?” A look of bewilderment crossed Elizabeth’s features before indignation arrived. “Yet, you allowed me to exact a pretense. Did you think to claim pleasure at my expense?” She turned her back on him. “Just leave, Mr. Darcy.” A treble of embarrassment marked her voice. “You know enough glee from my foolhardiness.”

Darcy ignored her protestations; instead, he placed his hands upon her shoulders and edged her return to his arms.

“You of all people know I would never claim joy from your mortification.” He caressed her shoulders when Elizabeth attempted to shrug off his touch. Darcy bent to speak to her ear. “I admit to permitting my worst fears to claim my tongue. I meant to lash out at you for the thought of you–of the most magnificent woman of my acquaintance–choosing the man I abhor above all others drove me to Bedlam.” He nuzzled Elizabeth’s cheek. “Yet, by the time I settled into your uncle’s carriage, my heart knew your tale impossible. You are too clever to succumb to the likes of Mr. Wickham.”

“To whom should I succumb?” Elizabeth asked on a hiccup. Beneath his fingertips, he felt her anger fall away. Darcy wrapped his arms about her to line her back with his front. “You deserve a man who would cherish you above all others–one who would cater to your whims–one who values your intelligence as much as he does your beauty–one who wants you as his life partner and not simply the mother of a required heir. My revered father would often catalog things he loved about my mother. The way Lady Anne would straighten his collar before they entered a room full of guests. The odd manner in which she held a pair of scissors. The elegant style in which she snipped flowers for a bouquet. That is the type of man you deserve.”

A shudder of regret shook Elizabeth frame.

“Your portrait is enticing, Mr. Darcy, but it is as futile as my attempt at deception. Lydia’s flight from Brighton colors the future of all her sisters. The most I can hope is we save part of her reputation, but I ask myself why would any man choose a foolish wife with only a share of her mother’s portion as dowry? Even if Mr. Wickham performs his duty to Lydia, a stain will follow the family.”

“And you believe I cannot overlook this stain?”

“When I consider,” Elizabeth lamented, “that I might have prevented this madness? I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of what I learned to my family–had Mr. Wickham’s character been known, this could not happen. But it is all, all too late now!” Her sobs intensified. “You opened my eyes to Mr. Wickham’s real character, but I held my tongue. Oh, had I known what I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not–I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!”

“This business is not your fault to claim. It was I who begged your silence. I should have made Mr. Wickham’s true nature known to those he meant to deceive.”

“The truth cannot be denied: We both agree Mr. Wickham would not marry a girl whose lack of a substantial dowry would make it impossible for him to better his situation. How Lydia could ever attached him is incomprehensible.” Darcy had his opinions, but he kept silent. “Although it grieves me to say so, for such an attachment as this Lydia might suffer charms. I do not suppose Lydia deliberately engaged in an elopement without the intention of marriage, but I hold no delusions that either my sister’s virtue or her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy prey. Wishes are vain, and I possess no hopes of the connection you and I have claimed to remain after this matter knows a conclusion.” Elizabeth sighed in acceptance of her words. “Gwenie has waited long enough for our return. Let us see the end to this farce. I am anxious for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet to know relief.”

Darcy held different ideas, but Elizabeth was too upset to accept reason. Now that Elizabeth admitted she considered becoming his wife, Darcy was not inclined to permit her to walk away from his life.

“Then let us be about it,” Darcy declared as he placed Elizabeth’s hand upon his arm. He meant to grow old with Elizabeth Bennet by his side, and damn any obstacle placed in his way.

“You are to remain close,” Darcy whispered as he escorted Elizabeth into a bustling inner city tavern. Their appearance brought a hush to a busy room.

The beefy-built innkeeper hustled forward.

“Yes, Sir.” The man attempted a bow, but his girth kept him off balance.

“The lady wishes to speak to her sister. I believe she is in the company of a dark-haired gentleman of a comparable height and build to mine.” Darcy slipped a coin into the man’s hand.

“Mr. Wiseman,” the innkeeper confirmed. “Be there something amiss, Sir?”

Darcy shook off the suggestion. He did not want the innkeeper to drive Wickham from the inn and to force another search.

“The lady has news of a personal nature for Mrs. Wiseman. We will not remain long, and I promise no trouble will come your way. Now, would you kindly provide me Mr. Wiseman’s directions?” A second coin earned the man’s cooperation.

“Upstairs. Third door upon the right.”

“Is there an empty room the ladies might use for their conversation?” One more coin produced a spare room key.

“Last room on the right.” The innkeeper nodded his gratitude.

Darcy did likewise before directing Elizabeth’s steps across the room to the stairs. He glanced back to make certain Gwenie followed. He knew from the stiffness in Elizabeth’s form the degradation in which Lydia Bennet sank ripped at Elizabeth’s sense of justice.

“I have you,” Darcy whispered as they mounted the stairs. “Trust me. Mr. Wickham is a scoundrel, but he would never permit another to harm your sister.”

Elizabeth nodded her understanding, but she walked as in a trance. When they reached the upper storey, Darcy halted her steps.

“Tell me you will not have a fit of the vapors.” He bent to speak to her pale features.

As Darcy hoped, his words of challenge did the trick.

“I am not Mrs. Bennet,” Elizabeth declared testily.

Darcy permitted himself a bit of a smile.

“Certainly not. You are the incomparable Elizabeth Bennet.” He traced a gloved finger down Elizabeth’s cheek to capture her chin in the palm of his hand. Lifting her chin where he might look upon Elizabeth’s countenance, Darcy asked, “Are you prepared to encounter your sister? It is likely you will not approve of what goes on here.”

“Yes. Yes, I am composed,” Elizabeth assured.

“Then take this key. Last room on your right. I will send your sister to you.”

Darcy waited outside of Wickham’s door until Elizabeth entered the room. He noted her shudder of disgust, and as foolish as it sounded, her reaction only confirmed her as the one woman who would best complement his existence: Elizabeth Bennet would go to any lengths to defend their family. He knew no other woman who would even enter the premises.

Before approaching Wickham, Darcy placed Gwenie in the hall between Wickham’s room and the one Elizabeth entered.

“If you hear anything unusual or someone attempts to enter Miss Elizabeth’s room other than her sister Miss Lydia, you are to set up a caterwaul no one in these parts has ever heard before.”

The maid sniggered.

“Yes, Sir.”

With a deep sigh of satisfaction, Darcy rapped on Mr. Wickham’s door. Within seconds, the door swung wide to reveal a half dressed Wickham.

“Darcy? What brings you to this fine establishment?” His former friend appeared surprised to see him. Evidently, Mrs. Younge did not warn Wickham of Darcy’s inquiries. He worried that Mrs. Younge might tell Wickham of Darcy’s claim of a bride–one Wickham would recognize from Mrs. Younge’s description. Although Darcy enjoyed the idea of Elizabeth playing the role of wife, he did not want Wickham to thwart Elizabeth’s efforts to save her family name.

“We have business,” Darcy replied in cold tones. Over Wickham’s shoulder Darcy spotted a disheveled Lydia Bennet. The fact the girl showed no shame at being caught in an intimate setting proved the power of Mr. Wickham’s “charms.” Darcy knew immediately Elizabeth’s hopes of whisking Lydia away to the safety of her uncle’s household would prove futile; therefore, it would be Darcy’s task to force Wickham to marry the girl. With that purpose in mind, he said, “Tell Miss Lydia to don a wrapper and then go to the last room on the right. Miss Elizabeth awaits her there.”

“Did you think to take up residence with Mr. Bennet’s second daughter?” Wickham smirked. “I can attest to…”

Whatever Mr. Wickham meant to speak against Lydia Bennet’s character was cut short as Darcy pinned his former friend to the back of the door, a forearm across Wickham’s throat.

“You will not speak unkindly of Miss Elizabeth or her sisters,” Darcy hissed. Without looking to the girl who acted so foolishly in giving her honor to a cad, he ordered, “Miss Lydia, you will join your sister immediately.”

“But…”

“Immediately,” Darcy barked. He waited until the girl grabbed a wrapper and scurried from the room before he released Wickham. “Have a seat,” Darcy commanded, shoving the scoundrel toward a chair.

Wickham rubbed his neck.

“No reason to act with violence.” Wickham straightened his shirt. “As
I
full
y
understand that this is not a pleasant reunion, what business do we have, Darcy? I thought you never wished to see me again.”

Darcy attempted to control his anger, but Wickham long since learned how to incite Darcy’s response.

“You understood correctly, but the Devil has a way of rearing his ugly head at the most inopportune times.”

“Why you, Darcy? Is this because of Miss Elizabeth? I long suspected you favored the woman.”

Darcy ignored the question. If Wickham recognized Darcy’s regard for Elizabeth, it would cost the Bennets more to claim Wickham’s cooperation.

“In truth, Mr. Bingley asked for my intervention. A letter arrived in Derbyshire from Miss Bennet with hopes that Bingley could aid her family. Before Bingley rushed to Hertfordshire, he begged my assistance. Your own words told all of Meryton we held a contemptuous relationship. Bingley means to make Miss Bennet his wife, and her younger sister’s actions brought harm to the family’s reputation.”

“And how did you connect with Miss Elizabeth?” Wickham studied Darcy searching for the holes in Darcy’s tale.

What his friend did not realize was since their youthful days when Wickham easily read Darcy’s thoughts, Darcy learned the fine art of negotiation at his revered father’s knee: He schooled his features before answering. As partial truths served him well to this point, Darcy improvised his response.

“Miss Elizabeth and I renewed our acquaintance in Kent. Before we parted, she told me of often spending time with her aunt and uncle in Cheapside. After learning of Miss Lydia’s flight to London, I assumed Mr. Bennet would call in at Gracechurch Street; therefore, I made the necessary contacts. I was not surprised Miss Elizabeth accompanied Mr. Bennet to London. This situation caused Mrs. Bennet much anguish and affected the health of both of the Bennets. Miss Elizabeth feared seeing Miss Lydia brought low would harm the family patriarch, and so she convinced her father to permit her to reason with Miss Lydia first.”

Wickham shrugged his shoulders in indifference.

“I hold no objections if Lydia wishes to return to Longbourn with her sister.”

“Then you do not mean to act with honor?” Darcy forced his hands still: Other than personal satisfaction, it would prove pointless to beat Mr. Wickham senseless. The man possessed no scruples.

Wickham snarled a laugh.

“Why would I wish to marry Lydia? Even you would not wish me such a fate.”

“You should have considered your options before you departed Brighton with the chit. The girl’s family expects a marriage.”

Wickham traced circles on a dusty table.

“I have expectations also, Darcy.”

“Mr. Bennet is not a rich man, but he is willing to present you with the girl’s share of her mother’s portion.”

Wickham did not look at him, which meant Wickham did not wish Darcy to note the scheming in his eyes.

“The girl’s portion is not enough to cover my debts,” Wickham responded matter-of-factly.

“That bad?” Darcy asked without sympathy.

“In Brighton and more in Meryton,” Wickham admitted.

“I see. Your debts are the crux of the matter.” Darcy calculated what it might cost to force Mr. Wickham to claim the parson’s noose.

Wickham stretched out his legs before him.

“I require an heiress, so you are welcome to Lydia. She served her purpose.”

“Which was to provide you a bit of coin to aid in your escape from your creditors,” Darcy summarized.

Wickham continued to shrug his answers.

“What can I say? Desperation is necessity’s mother.”

“Taking the girl’s coin did not necessitate ruining her.”

“It was Lydia’s idea for an adventure,” Wickham offered in excuse.

Darcy sucked in a slow, steadying breath. “As no heiress is likely to come your way in thi
s
fin
e
establishment and as you cannot be seen upon the streets of London’s better addresses, I would suggest you consider other options. Surely accepting Mr. Bennet’s generosity and claiming Miss Lydia to wife is preferable to debtors’ prison. If your debts are as high as you indicated, you could be sentenced for each infraction–a very long term.”

“Not if I choose to leave before the authorities discover me,” Wickham asserted.

“I found you with little effort, and I am certain the authorities will be quick to discover your whereabouts.”

“And you would assist the magistrates?” Wickham charged.

“I will not protect you if you choose to run,” Darcy said glibly.

“And if I choose to stay?” Wickham asked tentatively, but Darcy ignored the question. He wished his former friend to consider carefully his options.

Darcy glanced to the squalor in which Wickham dwelled. “Miss Elizabeth’s uncle and I will call upon you tomorrow. Mr. Bennet asked Mr. Gardiner to act in his stead.” He turned to go, but paused to say, “If desperation is truly a motive, consider my proposition. It is a viable solution.”

* * *

Her sister’s appearance shook Elizabeth to her core.

“Oh, Lydia!” Of its own accord, Elizabeth’s hand came to her mouth. “Please tell me you did not greet Mr. Darcy dressed as such.”

Lydia flounced past her to sit in a winged chair.

“How was I to know it was that stuffy Mr. Darcy at the door?” Her sister straightened her wrapper. “Filled his eyes though!” Lydia giggled foolishly. “You know what a curmudgeon he was in Meryton. Never smiled. Walked about like a constipated gentleman. And you have no idea what he did to poor Wickham. Mr. Darcy slammed Wickham against the door and ordered me from the room!”

Elizabeth prayed Mr. Darcy kept his temper under control. It would displease her immensely if Mr. Darcy came to harm, and Elizabeth held no doubt Mr. Wickham would not fight with honor.

“What did Mr. Wickham say to Mr. Darcy to bring forth the gentleman’s response?”

“What makes you think Wickham spoke from turn? We all knew Mr. Darcy to be a proud, disagreeable man.” Lydia gestured wildly.

“What did Mr. Wickham say?” Elizabeth repeated.

With a flippant flick of her unstyled hair, Lydia said, “Something about you and Mr. Darcy taking up together.” Lydia’s gaze fell upon Elizabeth’s features. “You do not have your sights set on the man, do you, Lizzy? He is rich, but…”

Elizabeth interrupted before her sister’s accusations found a target.

“After your escapades, none of your sisters are likely to claim a decent marriage. How could you act so foolishly, Lydia?”

Her sister swung her legs over the chair arm.

“You are just jealous because Mr. Wickham found me more attractive than you.”

“The man found you more naïve than other young ladies,” Elizabeth asserted.

Lydia sprang to her feet.

“Mr. Wickham loves me.”

“Has Mr. Wickham professed his regard?” Elizabeth charged. “Said he wishes to claim you to wife?”

“Not in so many words,” Lydia admitted. She strolled to the window to glance out upon the noisy street. “But Wickham shows his affections in other ways.”

“Did he ask you to marry him?” Elizabeth insisted. “You have set a date?”

Lydia did not turn to look at her, a fact Elizabeth knew to be more telling than her sister’s words.

“We will marry when the time comes. There is no rush.”

“There is a rush,” Elizabeth said pointedly. “In addition to the very real possibility you could be with child, each day you remain unwed brings more doom to our father’s door. Your mother and your sisters cannot go about in society because of the tarnish your actions brought to Longbourn’s door. Mr. Bingley returned to Jane’s side, but our eldest sister can claim no happiness because of you.”

“Do not practice such drama,” Lydia said with a nonchalant lift of her shoulders. “When Mr. Wickham and I marry all will be forgiven. You shall see. Society will pretend nothing of import occurred. I may be but newly sixteen, but I know more of the world than you.”