Mr. Darcy's P&P POV (the abridged version) – Part 10
by Jack Caldwell
Author's note: All chapters below correspond to the chapters in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
Chapter 45 –
Gad! I wonder—can I kill Caroline Bingley and not hang for it?
The day started out well enough. Mr. Gardiner proved himself to be an excellent angler. By that, I do not mean his skill with tackle, which was excellent. No—the man knows when to be quiet.
It is a lesson Bingley should learn. I do believe in the two hours we spent in pursuit of trout I can put together a full ten minutes that Bingley was not talking. Talking about the weather, talking about the water, talking about Miss Elizabeth, talking about Hertfordshire… always talking, blast him! How we caught anything is a wonder. Oh, well, at least Hurst was silent—mostly—when he was not complaining.
Truly, I did not need Bingley or Hurst to distract me from my fishing. My mind was more anxiously occupied by what was happening in my house. Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner were to call on Georgiana, and I longed to be there. Drat my duty to my guests! Still, I was reserved to do right by them until Mr. Gardiner sighed.
"Mr. Darcy," said he as he lowered his rod, "forgive me, but I cannot help but notice that your attention is not fully engaged in our sport." He gave me a most amused yet penetrating look. "Perhaps you are distracted by unfinished business? I for one would not be offended if you excused yourself to see to pressing matters—indeed, your hospitality exceeds any measure of what is usually extended to common and indifferent acquaintances." He studies me closely.
Good God, does he know? Did Elizabeth tell him of Hunsford? No—she would not, I am sure of it. I must be more transparent than I thought. This realization is only scarcely less mortifying.
However, I grasp this opportunity like a drowning man a life ring. I make hurried excuses to Bingley and Hurst, quickly turn over my tackle and creel to the footmen who attended us, and make my way to the house. I redden, remembering Mr. Gardiner's words and glances. My anticipation and anxiety increase with each step, as I fight for self-control of my expression. Only Elizabeth's sweet presence can rescue me from this humiliation of discovery.
Once I reach the house, I make a beeline to my study. A quick change of dress and I am at the saloon's door. I draw a deep breath and indicate that it be opened.
The ladies were gathered about the table, enjoying the fruits of Pemberley's gardens, orchards and conservatory. Georgiana smiled at my entrance, but I admit I hardly noted it. My eyes were full on Elizabeth.
Her dress, of pale yellow, set off her light and pleasing figure without being vulgar. The skin of her arms and cheeks held a most becoming glow of health. Her full lips were parted in surprise. And her eyes—her mesmerizing eyes, wide in surprise—held me captive. Oh, but if I could properly claim her as my own!
The moment passes and I recall myself. I greet Mrs. Gardiner first, as I should, before turning to Elizabeth. My eye catches Caroline's pinched expression and I resolve not to embarrass Elizabeth before her. My greetings to her and the rest of the ladies is all that is proper, and if I allow my gaze to linger an instant more on Elizabeth than the others, so be it.
To keep myself safe, I sit by Georgiana, keeping her between Elizabeth and myself. This way I can take my fill of her without raising suspicion, I thought at the time. I also wanted to promote Georgiana to Elizabeth's close acquaintance and forwarded as much as possible every attempt at conversation between them.
"Pray, Miss Eliza," came Caroline's sneering comment, "are not the —shire militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family."
WHAT? That dammed harlot dares raises the specter of He Who Shall Not Be Named in my house? In front of Georgiana? What does she know? How does she know about Ramsgate? Why does she attack Georgie?
In the next instant, I see more clearly. Caroline's target is Elizabeth, not Georgie. She means to promote herself by reminding me of Elizabeth's partiality for the ingrate. Apparently, Georgiana's secret is safe.
Stupid, selfish girl! In this, as in all matters, Caroline's aim is misguided. Instead of injuring Elizabeth, her bolt strikes Georgie. Blast her! I will toss the baggage out the front door myself!
Elizabeth, for her part, shows her superiority. I have no idea whether she believed me about Useless, but in her actions and words, she quickly, calmly, and effectively deflects Caroline's ill-judged and ill-bred attack. My respect, approbation, and affection for Elizabeth grow. I will no long hide my feelings and care not who knows it. If Caroline is unhappy about my now-and-forever undisguised admiration for Elizabeth Bennet, why she can go to the devil!
The visit does not long continue after this incident. As the ladies rise, I step quickly to see them to their carriage, probably making an earnest fool out of myself. But I would slap on a false nose and call myself a clown if it meant I could be in Elizabeth's presence a moment longer. Perhaps I did hold her hand longer than necessary to hand her up. No complaint does she utter—only blushes—and that is capital with me.
When I return to the saloon, Caroline is holding court. "How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy. I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again."
Damned bitch! I will hold my temper, though. "I perceived no alteration to Miss Bennet, save she was rather tanned. No miraculous consequence of travelling in the summer."
Caroline does not take the hint. "For my own part, I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin, her complexion has no brilliancy, and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable but not out of the common way. And as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look which I do not like at all, and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion which is intolerable."
I bite my tongue, but not out of any respect or deference to Caroline Bingley, for she deserves none. Georgiana, however, is perplexed and offended. Elizabeth had left her mark on her as she has on me, and I can tell she cares not to hear any ill of her new friend. Oh, Elizabeth, you have such power over us Darcys!
Caroline continues on, like the wicked witch she is. "I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty. And I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, 'She a beauty!—I should as soon call her mother a wit.''
She laughs a little at this, and Georgiana throws an accusing look my way. I am at my limit.
Caroline clears her throat. "But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time."
I contain myself no longer. "Yes, but that was only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance!"
I cannot stand to be in that witch's presence a moment longer and stalked out of the room.
Chapter 46 –
The next day I am on my best charger, riding to Lambton. It is not too early to call—surely Elizabeth and her relations have had their breakfast—and I must apologize personally for their treatment by Bingley's sister yesterday.
My own breakfast was pleasant, as it usually is when I share it with Georgiana. She reports that she slept well. I hope that my explanation for my outburst yesterday did something to soothe her delicate feelings.
As for my feelings, I own that is a difficult thing. Hope and caution war in my breast, and I know not which will triumph. I tell myself I only go to Lambton to beg their pardon, but that is only half the truth. I long to see Elizabeth again, to see whether her opinion of me is better, and learn whether I do have a chance with her. I must guard my tongue; I cannot blurt out another proposal as I did in Kent—
Proposal? Fool! You must court her first! Have I learned nothing about how to please a woman worthy of being pleased?
I take a breath before I dismount at the inn. Steady, man! Once inside, I ask to be shown to the Gardiners' room. The Gardiners' man shows me up. We make our way upstairs, and I am announced—
WHAT? Elizabeth is crying!
"I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed! I have not a moment to lose!"
"Good God! What is the matter?" Calm down, Darcy! She needs a man, not a maniac. "I will not detain you a minute, but let me, or let the servant, go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not well enough—you cannot go yourself."
Elizabeth hesitates, but agrees to my calling back the servant. In a breathless, almost unintelligible accent she commissions him to fetch his master and mistress home instantly. Once he quits the room, she almost falls into a chair. I am beside myself with worry.
"Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine—shall I get you one? You are very ill."
"No, I thank you. There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well." She gulps. "I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn."
She bursts into tears and for a few minutes cannot speak another word. In wretched suspense I stand, helpless and powerless. I can only watch her in compassionate silence while my guts turn inside out.
Finally, she says, "I have just had a letter from Jane with such dreadful news! It cannot be concealed from anyone. My youngest sister has left all her friends—has eloped—has thrown herself into the power of—of Mr. Wickham."
Say again?
Elizabeth continues, "They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to—she is lost forever!"
WTF? WICKHAM! That bounder! That scoundrel! That no-good, two-faced, egg-sucking, inadequately-endowed piece of pond scum! He has hurt Elizabeth's family! Something must be done!
"When I consider," Elizabeth adds in a yet more agitated voice, "that I might have prevented it! I who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only—some part of what I learnt—to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all, all too late now."
Her words strike me like a hammer. Stunned, I manage, "I am grieved, indeed—grieved—shocked. But is it certain, absolutely certain?" Meanwhile, my stomach is trying itself into knots.
Elizabeth nods. "Oh yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night and were traced almost to London, but not beyond. They are certainly not gone to Scotland."
My mouth is as dry as ashes. "And what has been done—what has been attempted to recover her?"
"My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's immediate assistance, and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour." She shakes her lovely head. "But nothing can be done. I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!" She begins to cry again. "When my eyes were opened to his real character—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!"
I make no answer. Her words are more painful than at Hunsford. I know of what she speaks. Who was it that opened her eyes to Wickham's capacity for perfidy but practically swore her to secrecy? Who was too proud to share his family's shame with those he called his friends? Who let a monster run free in Hertfordshire? Me—Fitzwilliam Arthur George Darcy.
This is my fault. She all but said it. There is nothing I can do to wipe my shame from her memory. She can never forgive me; indeed, I do not deserve her forgiveness. Elizabeth is lost to me forever.
But I can do her one last service.
"I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence; nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks." Thank goodness my voice is level, that it gives no hint of my disappointment. This is not about me, but about Elizabeth! "This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley today." And me, as well.
"Oh, yes," she readily agrees. "Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible." She sobs. "I know it cannot be long."
She is leaving. I will never see her again.
I manage some inane parting comment—expressing sorrow for her distress, wishing a happier conclusion than there was at present reason to hope, and leave compliments for her relations. My heart is breaking as I take one last, long look at her lovely face, committing to my memory. She is trying so hard to be brave, to behave like the lady she was born and raised to be, all the while knowing that this event puts her reputation and that of her family in peril.
This will not stand, I vow. Fear not, my love. I know you are lost to me forevermore, Elizabeth, but I will not allow Wickham to ruin your family! No matter the cost!
I leave before I embarrass and distress her further. I have planning to do.
Chapter 47 –
I lock myself in my study, reviewing old correspondence, refreshing my mind as to Wickham's habits and acquaintances in London. Several hours pass and I am interrupted by a knock on the door. It is Georgiana.
"Brother," says she nervously after she takes a chair by my desk. "Why did the Gardiners and Miss Bennet beg off coming to Pemberley today? Was it—was it something I said?"
I cringe. Here is more evidence of my thoughtlessness, my selfish distain for the feelings of others. "No, sweeting. I apologize for my abruptness to you, the Bingleys, and the Hursts when I returned from Lambton. I saw Miss Bennet, and she was very sorry not to come. She received news from home, and it was necessary for the entire party to depart as soon as could be."
Georgiana paled. "Nothing terrible, I hope!"
Bad enough. "I was assured of her family's good health."
Just then, the butler stepped in. "The express rider is here, sir."
"Excellent." I stand and hand over the letter I prepared for the housekeeper at Darcy House in Town. As I return to my chair, I see a suspicious look in Georgiana's eye.
"Why are you sending a note to Town? Are you leaving, too?"
Blast, Georgie saw the direction! "Yes. Urgent business calls me away."
Georgiana gives me a hard look, one I remember seeing on my mother's face. "Fitzwilliam, you are hiding something. I can always tell."
I make a decision. "I cannot share the particulars, but I go to help a friend."
A bright smile breaks over her face. "Then I shall ask no more." She stands. "I will see to your packing and play hostess to our guests. How long shall you be away?"
My sister is growing up. "I do not know. It could be several weeks."
She nods. "Very well." She then gives me a knowing look. "Give my best regards to 'your business' when you see her." With that she leaves the room.
She certainly did not see the despair that I am sure was clearly written on my face. I wish I could, Georgie.
To be continued…