Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (19 page)

“Us, Miss Bingley?”  Darcy’s voice was icy.  “Do you consider yourself my equal?”

“I . . .” Caroline saw too late her error.

“I have considered Miss Elizabeth Bennet to be the handsomest woman of my acquaintance since the first moment I saw her.  I hardly expected my rude and unfortunate remarks to be repeated, but now that you have chosen to do so I must correct you.  I spoke them in an effort to quiet you, leaving me to enjoy Miss Elizabeth in peace.  I now intend to spend my lifetime doing just that.”

“Oh.”  Caroline swallowed and looked to Louisa for rescue. 

“I hope that your sleep is pleasant tonight, Mr. Darcy.”  Louisa offered quickly, changing the subject.  “Just wedding nerves, perhaps?”  Darcy’s sharp look moved from Caroline to Louisa.

Hurst spoke up.  “If your sleep is disturbed, your mind might be trying to convince you to reconsider your plans.”  Darcy’s look instantly shot to Hurst and seeing his lips twitch and his fixed attention on his sister, he relaxed. 

“According to you, my mind is suffering from lack of food, so I shall eat this breakfast.  I am sure that your mind will be reassured that mine is quite at peace with my decision.”  He took a bite and turned to Bingley.  “Colonel Forster, do you know if he remains in Meryton or if he has taken up residence in the encampment?”

“I believe that he has rooms in town, at the inn.”  Bingley consulted Hurst, who nodded.  “Paying a call?  Would you like some company?” 

Darcy hesitated, “Well . . .” Seeing Caroline and Louisa’s attention his eyes narrowed.  “You are more familiar with the colonel than I.”

“Yes, I did actually speak to him.”  Bingley winked and Darcy frowned.  “Excellent, an outing.  I was going distracted trapped inside of these walls, especially with all of this bustle preparing for the ball.  By the way, Darcy, I was planning to toast you and Miss Elizabeth on Tuesday, is there anything in particular I should expound upon?”

Darcy’s voice took on a note of warning, “Bingley.”

“I think that Miss Elizabeth should be congratulated on her fine catch.”  Hurst winked.

“No, no.”  Bingley’s head wagged.  “It is Darcy who should be congratulated.”  Seeing the slight smile appear and his friend’s eyes soften, he kicked Hurst under the table and nodded towards Darcy.  Hurst snorted.  “Yes, that will be my plan.”

“I thank you, Bingley.  I am indeed the fortunate one; I will be honoured if Miss Elizabeth tolerates me.”  Darcy set down his knife and fork and stood.  “Excuse me.  I will be in the library when you are ready to depart.”

“What did you say?”  Louisa looked after him.  “Is he angry?”

Bingley’s head tilted as he watched Darcy quietly walk away.  “No.  I have known him for years, he is not angry.”

“I think that he is regretting his decision.”  Caroline pushed back from the table.  “I will go . . .”

“Caroline, sit down.”  Hurst said tiredly.  “Rattling the man’s door handle during the night?  What did you expect him to do, invite you to stay?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”  She blushed and looked at her sister.  “I do not!”

Louisa glared at her.  “Of course you do.  Caroline!  You are doing yourself no favours.  Insulting Miss Elizabeth, nearly on the eve of his wedding?  How could you do such a thing?  Proclaiming yourself his equal!  Do you want to be invited to Pemberley again?  I admit; I refused to believe Mr. Darcy was serious about such a ridiculous choice, but since his return, it is clear that he will marry Miss Elizabeth!”

“I cannot accept that!”  Caroline declared.  “That little chit knows nothing of society!”

“Then perhaps you can help her to settle in!”  Bingley smiled brightly and creased his brow when Hurst rolled his eyes.  “What did I say?”

“Come on, Bingley, we need to talk before joining Darcy.” Hurst got to his feet.  “And I trust that my wife has some wisdom to impart to her shrewish sister.”  He caught Louisa’s eye.  “If
she
ever wants to be invited to Pemberley again, that is.” 

ELIZABETH CURLED into a chair in the parlour, hugging a pillow to her chest and staring out at the unending rain.  The weather perfectly reflected her mood.  “What can we do?  There must be another way.  There must be!”  She now felt, and more importantly, understood, Darcy’s quiet desperation.  She had not even met the girl, but his description of her as so terribly shy made her angry rant about Georgiana’s decision to run off with Wickham seem petty.  Having met the man, she could easily imagine how he charmed her, and shuddered to imagine the terrible time she lived through, a little girl attempting to be a wife to a man hell bent on revenge.  She had no doubt that he was not kind, and she was sure that Darcy felt the same.  Elizabeth was sheltered and innocent, but she grew up on a farm.  She knew the rhythm of life and death amongst the animals, and she was aware to some extent what happened between men and women.  Unlike Georgiana, she at least had some idea of what was expected by her husband the night of her wedding.  “But not
my
wedding night.”  Resting her chin on her knees, she thought over the day one week in the future when she would become Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy in name but not in truth, and inexplicably, she felt very sad.

As overwhelming as the past week had been, as frightened as she was and angry with her father and the solution that Darcy was asking her to accept, she was steadily becoming more assured that marrying him was absolutely the right choice.  Even without Georgiana’s situation, he admitted that he would have regretted leaving Hertfordshire without her.  His every expression, his restraint; his unspoken feelings demonstrated in his look and touch told of his genuine care. 

“How could it be love so soon?  Can I proclaim that I love him?  I do not know him, how can you love without knowing each other?”  She thought of his eagerness to share with her stories of Pemberley, his desire to show her London, his desire to treat her with respect, his barely managed desire to kiss her . . . She blushed at the memory of his look of utter awe when she stood before him in her wet dress.  Elizabeth thought again of the vulnerability he showed at the most unexpected times, and felt her heart lurch for this shy, burdened, completely inarticulate man.  Before her she saw the blue eyes that expressed so many emotions that his voice could not, and closing her eyes, she thought of how very good it felt to bring him comfort, “What is this that I feel, Fitzwilliam?”  She hugged the pillow and imagined his kiss.  “Maybe this is love?  The beginnings of it?”

Determinedly she shook it off.  “Love would be wonderful, but we will never have a marriage if we cannot find a way to help Georgiana.  He asked me to help him, such a man asked
me
for
my
opinion!”  She stared off into the rain, thinking.

Jane appeared at the door.  “Lizzy, you must come and stop Mama unless you wish to wear a gown dripping with lace.  Papa said that we may take the carriage into Meryton to purchase your wedding gown and anything you needed for the ball.”

“He did?”  She put the pillow aside.  “Why would he do that?  I do not understand him at all!  Why will he not speak to me?  He tells me nothing!  Nothing!” 

“What do you expect, Lizzy?  He knows you are angry and he is surely embarrassed by his behaviour.”  Jane took her arm and led her to the door.  “Be glad that he has accepted Mr. Darcy.  I heard him speaking to Mr. Collins yesterday; he informed him that he was not to consider you any longer, although after Mr. Darcy kissed you in the kitchen, I think that was unnecessary.”  She smiled when Elizabeth’s face reddened.

“But what of you?  Is he going to promote you to him?  You know that Mr. Collins would not hesitate to take you.”

“I know.”  Jane looked down.  “But Mama will not hear of it, thankfully.  She is pushing Mary.”

“Oh no, poor Mary!”  Elizabeth looked to the drawing room where the sound of the pianoforte could be heard along with Mr. Collins speaking over it.  “We must save her!  She is far too naive.  No, Papa has already said no to any of the younger girls.  At least he shows some mercy to them.”  She spoke bitterly.  “I suppose I should be grateful for his desire that I wed Mr. Collins, if Mr. Darcy had not heard Papa speak of it, he would still be debating his opinion of me, and would be hearing the announcement of my engagement to our cousin in church tomorrow.  What would he have done, I wonder?”

“Lizzy, please, you will be gone in days, please . . .”

“Oh Jane.”  Elizabeth sighed and took her hands.  “I know; you want us to part with peace.  Well, I have the opportunity to escape this house, Papa, and Mr. Collins for ribbons and lace.  I shall take it.”

Within the hour, Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage and quickly followed Jane into the dress shop.  Darcy paused at the door to the tavern.  He remained motionless, watching her.  “Darcy!”  Bingley called and he turned.  “The colonel is waiting.”  Darcy nodded and looked back across the street, and finally becoming aware of the rain beating down, turned and entered the tavern.

“Over here!”  Bingley waved him towards a table in the back of the tap room.  “What kept you?”

“I saw Elizabeth.”  He murmured and taking off his coat, he hung it on a peg near the table.  “Colonel Forster.”  He bowed.

“Mr. Darcy.”  The man smiled and indicating the chairs, the four sat down.  “Mr. Hurst tells me that you have some queries to make after one of my men?”

“Well, he would have been one; I think that he might have moved on.  George Wickham?”

“Ah, yes.”  Forster sat back.  “Not much to tell you, we would have been glad to add him to the militia, but he . . . well I would say he got a whiff of the life and high-tailed it out before he signed on!”  He laughed.  “I wondered why he would want to join, he had enough to buy an officer’s commission.  He could live on that for quite a while.”

“He was hiding.”  Darcy said stonily and Forster’s brows rose.  “You do not seem surprised.”

“No, I imagine I have quite a few of those types.  So tell me what was his crime?”  Darcy noticed Hurst and Bingley leaning in and he closed his mouth.  “None of my business, I take it.”

“Forgive me, sir.”

“No, no.  He was not my responsibility whenever it occurred, so I will not press you.  However, I cannot help you, either.  I have no idea where he went.”  Looking around the room, he lifted his chin.  “That man at the bar, Denny, he is the one who brought him in.  Maybe he has an idea.”  Darcy looked to the officer laughing with a few of his friends, and rising, walked over to the group. 

“Lieutenant?”  Darcy’s voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable quality of command in it.  The three officers stopped their conversation and studied him.  “I understand that you might have some information on the whereabouts of George Wickham.”

“I might.”  He looked Darcy over.  “You are Mr. Darcy.”  Seeing his head incline, Denny nodded.  “I know you.  You cheated Wickham of a living and an inheritance.”

“Is that the story?”  Darcy’s eyes flashed.  “You must not have known him well if you believed any lies that came from his lips.  Tell me, how much does he owe you?”

“Owe me?”  Denny started.

“Undoubtedly you played cards, did he pay his debts before departing?  He was only here a week, it cannot have been much yet.”  Looking between the men, he noted their discomfort.  “I see.  Now, where did he go?” 

“London, that is all I know.”  Denny said quickly.  Darcy stepped closer and stared coldly at him.  “A woman . . . he said that she helped him this summer, he has gone to her . . .”

“A woman.”  Darcy hissed.  “Her
NAME
, sir.”

“I . . . I do not know.”  Denny stuttered and looked to his friends, who had backed away.  “Mrs. Something.”

“You can do better than that, Lieutenant.”  Darcy’s teeth bared.  “What did she help him do?  He surely bragged about it.”

“He . . . he . . . was . . . Mrs. Younge!”  Denny spat out the name.  “I know nothing else; she just started a boarding house somewhere.” 

“Somewhere?” 

“That is all I know, sir, I swear!”  Searching his eyes for the truth, Darcy nodded and stepped back. 

“Very well.”  Turning, he discovered that Bingley and Hurst had come to stand behind him. “I think we are finished here.”  He nodded to the colonel who was watching the confrontation with great interest, and donning his coat, stepped outside. 

“Well?”

“I have to send an express to my cousin.”  He looked back across the street to the dress shop.  The Bennet carriage was gone.  His head hung for a moment and then he turned to Bingley.  “I will be back in a few moments.”  Ducking against the rain, he ran across the muddy street. 

“Are you going to tell us what is happening?”  Bingley called.

“No.” 

“Well that was succinct.”  Hurst chuckled and climbed up into the carriage and watched Darcy enter the shop.  “He leaves us to speculate.”

Darcy stepped inside, a little bell tinkled as the door closed and a woman’s voice called from somewhere, “I’ll be right there, have a look around!”  Stamping his feet on a worn mat, he walked around the shop uncomfortably, looking at the accoutrements of feminine clothing, lace, ribbons, a few decent bolts of silk, but mostly cottons and prints.  Hearing footsteps he let go of a pink ribbon he had been fingering and straightened.  “Oh!  Mr. DARCY.”  She said a little loudly.  Darcy’s brow creased.  “What can I do for you, sir, Mr. DARCY?”

From behind a curtain in the back, Elizabeth and Jane stopped their examination of fabrics and Elizabeth crept forward to peek into the salesroom.  “Madam.”  Darcy said slowly.  “I believe that I spotted Miss Elizabeth entering earlier.”

“Yes, sir.”  The seamstress said brightly.  “Here to get a ball gown, well things for a ball gown, no time to make one, sir, but she picked some bits and bobs to sew on.”  She leaned forward.  “She wants to look just so for a certain young man.”  She winked at him.

“She is remaking a gown.”  Darcy frowned.

“Of course sir, you cannot just go throwing out a good gown just because you wore it once!  Ah you see, the men never notice, you could wear the same thing for years and they do not care, but the ladies!”  She nodded and pointed a pair of scissors at him.  “Merciless.”