author's note: angst ahoy, chapter 11 is up! thanks for reading and reviewing the previous chapter, you rock! i'm sorry that it took me slightly longer than usual to get this done, let's hope for a quicker progression with chapter 12:)
Part 11
Darcy was sitting on an armchair, in the drawing room of a modest but well-kept little house situated on Gracechurch Street, London. The likes of Miss Bingley – and he himself some time ago – might have sniffed at the slightly outdated furnishings of this Cheapside house, or the occupation of the man who owned it, but Darcy found the quiet comfort of the house soothing after the events of the morning and the owner one of the finest men he had ever met. Elizabeth's uncle, Mr. Edward Gardiner, might not have been the most fashionable man in town nor a part of the highest circles, but in the days that had passed, he had proved that he possessed other qualities that far surpassed the aforementioned when judging a man's character. He was a kind, intelligent, level-headed man and Darcy was glad to have made his acquaintance. And mightily surprised that the man was the younger brother of one, much less sensible lady from Hertfordshire. But that, of course, was something he would never be caught saying out loud.
Mr. Gardiner was in his study and the Colonel had gone to see his parents. He had asked Darcy to come with him, but Darcy had refused. He knew he was a coward to avoid his aunt and uncle, but he did not have the strength to deal with them right now. He had sent his uncle a short letter with Richard, apologizing for not having come personally and repeating the invite to come to the wedding. His wedding. The thought seemed surreal. So much had happened since that day in Netherfield's drawing room when he had jumped up and declared his intentions of marrying Elizabeth. He felt like a different man now. A better man? He could not tell. But quite different. And in three days he would face the biggest change yet. Marrying Elizabeth.
A sigh escaped his lips and he took a sip from the glass he was nursing. It was somewhat early still, but when Darcy and the Colonel had returned to Gracechurch Street to see Mr. Gardiner, all three gentlemen had been in agreement over the fact that they deserved a little brandy. It had been a trying morning indeed. And the days that preceded it had been even more so.
Finding Wickham and Miss Lydia had proven to be quite an ordeal. Having left Georgiana in Netherfield with the Bingleys, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had ridden after Elizabeth's uncle. At each place they had stopped, they had been told the same story. Wickham and Miss Lydia had been traveling towards London and that was the direction Mr. Gardiner was headed too. It was a stroke of fortune when, at the last place they stopped before reaching London, someone pointed them towards a gentleman, telling them that he had had just a few minutes ago been asking the same questions. Mr. Gardiner. Darcy and the Colonel had immediately gone and introduced themselves and the gentlemen had quickly agreed to combine their strength to discover the runaways.
The days that followed had been an exhausting succession of disappointments, one lead after another taking them to a dead end. It was not until, after much bribing and visiting places Darcy would never have set foot in under normal circumstances, that they had finally discovered the whereabouts of one Mrs. Younge. Though it was not as they had hoped – Wickham and Miss Lydia were not staying with her – they had eventually managed to convince Mrs. Younge that it was in her best interest to tell them everything she knew. And it had turned out that she knew quite a lot.
Darcy took another sip of his brandy. The image that had greeted them, when they had finally found Miss Lydia and Wickham, was forever etched in his mind, only in his imagination Lydia Bennet was replaced by his little sister. The horror of it, that this was what could have happened to Georgiana if he had arrived to Ramsgate a little later; that Elizabeth would now have to live with the knowledge of it happening to her sister instead, was too much. For behind the door they had knocked on, had been Miss Lydia Bennet, dressed in a flimsy nightgown, her cheek red where her lover had undoubtedly slapped her. From another room, a shout had been heard:
"Damn it, Lyds! Whoever it is, send them away and come back to bed this instant!"
Darcy cursed out loud as he thought of it. It was his fault, all of it. How he could ever look Elizabeth in the eye after this, he did not know.
A happily drunken George Wickham had not known what hit him when, after he had shown up at the door to see who was disturbing them, a furious Darcy had punched him squarely between his eyes before he had time to react. Blind with rage towards the man who had once again ruined his happiness, Darcy had been of a mind to punch him more than once, but the Colonel and Mr. Gardiner had stopped him.
"When I said every bone in his body, I did not mean it literally, you know?" the Colonel had grinned, "Though the thought is tempting, indeed."
What had surprised them all had been the stubborn reluctance of Miss Lydia Bennet to admit that there was anything very much wrong with what she had done. They intended to marry, after all, and surely it did not matter when exactly it happened, as long as it happened. Darcy found it most likely that Wickham had never had any intention to marry the girl, but he had not said it out loud. Lydia Bennet was a girl still, and though it surely was not enough of an excuse for her behaviour that she had thought that they would marry, he had not felt that it was his place to point this out to her.
Her uncle, however, had had no such scruples. With a calm but stern authority, which Darcy could not but admire, he had told his niece how grievously her actions had hurt her entire family and ordered her to gather her things and prepare to leave instantly. Miss Lydia had protested, claiming that she wanted to stay with Wickham, but her uncle had heard none of it. In five minutes he and Miss Lydia had been out of the door, with an agreement that Darcy and the Colonel would call on Gracechurch Street when they were finished with Wickham.
The mere idea of having to negotiate with Wickham had made Darcy physically ill. But, to salvage the reputation of Elizabeth's family, it had been necessary. Wickham had not been at all keen to consent to marrying the youngest Miss Bennet. He had laughed at their face when they had presented the idea, and suggested that they offer him Miss Elizabeth instead. After that, Colonel Fitzwilliam had not exactly tried his hardest to prevent Darcy from punching him again. In the end, they had managed to make him to agree to the marriage, and to keep his mouth shut about what had happened before the wedding wows were taken. It had taken a hefty sum of Darcy's money, a promise of a commission in the North – and a threat to take over all the debts he had left in Meryton and send him to debtors' prison if he did not play by the rules.
Thus, for better or – which was more likely the case – for worse, Miss Lydia Bennet was going to be Mrs. George Wickham. If Darcy could have had his way, he would have dragged the unfortunate couple to the nearest church straight away and have them married before Wickham could think of a way to weasel his way out of the agreement. But of course, it would not do. Banns would have to be cried and other formalities taken care of before the marriage could take place. They could only pray that the threat of debtors' prison would be enough of an inducement for Wickham to show up at the church when the day of the wedding came. Just in case, they agreed that Colonel Fitzwilliam would arrange for a man to keep an eye on the reluctant groom. That way they would at least know immediately if he started having second thoughts.
To have Miss Lydia return to Longbourn unmarried had been deemed an unwise idea by all of the gentlemen involved. To lessen the effects of the scandal, it was decided instead that Miss Lydia would stay at the Gardiners for the time being, so that perhaps, if Mrs. Bennet managed to restrain her lamentations on the subject when neighbours were present, people might think that she had merely been visiting relatives instead of eloping in a scandalous manner. Mr. Gardiner had already sent an express to Longbourn, in which he tried to explain as little as possible about the circumstances in which Lydia had been found, so as not to stress Mr. Bennet any more than was absolutely necessary, and asking for his wife and family to return to him as soon as possible. Darcy thought Mr. Gardiner a regular saint to agree to put up with Miss Lydia's behaviour for the weeks it would take to arrange the wedding – despite her uncle's attempts to reprimand her, she had constantly, or at least up until Mr. Gardiner had sent her upstairs to think about her behaviour, lamented on how much she missed her dear Wickham. But Mr. Gardiner only regretted that this meant that he and his wife would not be able to take part in Darcy's own wedding.
Contemplative, Darcy twirled the brandy in his glass. He should go home. On the morrow he and his cousin would head back to Hertfordshire and he needed to make sure that everything was ready for when he and Elizabeth would come back to town in a few days' time. But somehow, he found himself unable to move, unable to quit the comfort of the Gardiner's house. In the days that had gone by, he had never been alone, always busy to come up with a new plan to find Wickham and Miss Lydia, always coming home late at night, too exhausted to do anything but sleep. And the Colonel had been staying at the house with him. But not tonight. Tonight he would be all alone in the house and he disliked the idea exceedingly, for he knew what he would do. He would think of her.
Darcy gulped down the rest of his drink. What a lovesick fool he had become. Afraid to go to his own home, it was ridiculous. Getting up, he made his way to Mr. Gardiner's study. The door was ajar and he knocked before entering.
"I..." he said when Mr. Gardiner looked up from his papers, "I think I should get going, sir. Unless there is something more I can help you with?"
Mr. Gardiner smiled. "Apart from saving my brother's family from disgrace and demanding to take on the expenses yourself, you mean? No, I think you have done more than your share already, young man."
Darcy smiled too. He truly liked Elizabeth's uncle.
"You know I have done no such thing. It was my mistake to not have revealed his character so it is only fair that I should be the one to pay for it."
Shaking his head, Mr. Gardiner replied: "I would say that you are blaming yourself for something that is no more your fault than it is your fault that the sun sets in the evening. But I have told you that already, more than once, so I suppose it is of no use."
"No use at all, sir" Darcy smiled. They had gone over this several times over the days of the search. Despite Darcy's attempts to explain his point of view, Mr. Gardiner had obstinately refused to believe that Darcy was to blame for anything that had happened. If only he knew the true extent of Darcy's folly. Because of his actions, not one but two Bennet sisters were about to enter unhappy marriages. Darcy sighed. At least he had not managed to destroy the chances of happiness of the eldest Miss Bennet, though it was definitely not because of his lack of trying. Shame on him. Shame on him, indeed.
Having made sure that Mr. Gardiner had the directions of his lawyer in case anything was needed, Darcy made to depart. Mr. Gardiner got up to see him to the door and before Darcy stepped out of the house that had become familiar to him in the days that had passed, the two men shook hands.
"It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. Please know that you and your family are always welcome at Pemberley. I-" Darcy's voice faltered a bit here, but Mr. Gardiner seemed not to notice. "I believe Elizabeth would be very happy to see some familiar faces there." Or any faces for that matter, besides your own, you fool.
"Thank you, my boy," replied Mr. Gardiner, "I believe we shall take you up on that offer. But not too soon, of course, my wife and I know better than to disturb a pair of newlyweds."
Darcy smiled, but this time it did not reach his eyes. He doubted that there were ever two newlyweds more in need of disturbance than he and Elizabeth would be. Perhaps, in time, Elizabeth would forgive him, but such felicity as he had dared to hope for in the happy days of courting his fiancée, he no longer expected. How could she ever love a man who had ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?
On his way home, Darcy swore to himself that he would not spend the evening sulking over Elizabeth and their missed chances for happiness. He would have enough time for that once they were married. No, he would read that book that had stood unfinished on his nightstand for some time now, perhaps play a game of chess with himself. He was still Fitzwilliam Darcy, after all, and Fitzwilliam Darcy was not the sort of man to make a fool out of himself because he had been crossed a little in love. At least he had not used to be.
The next morning, Darcy woke up in the same clothes he had worn the previous day. He felt disoriented for a moment, trying to take in the strange surroundings. And then, to his great chagrin, he realized that he had not fallen asleep in his own bed but rather in the bed that, in a matter of days, would belong to his wife. His wife.
Not a sort of man to make a fool out of himself, indeed.
