Chapter Five

Darcy had never revealed his whole history with Wickham to anyone and, no matter how much he trusted Charles, he was not about to start. Bingley offered a seat and a glass of brandy, but Darcy declined both and instead took to pacing the room. He halted at the window to stare out at the now familiar view. Long evenings spent in this room, hiding from Caroline, and desiring quite another lady's presence had engraved every landscape into his memory. He breathed deeply before beginning.

"George Wickham was the son of my late father's steward. My father held him in great esteem, born from his respect of Mr. Wickham. When Mr. Wickham died, my father provided for George, he payed his way through Cambridge and brought him up in the life of a gentleman and he had hoped to make the church his profession. By this time, however, George Wickham's profligacy and dissolute ways were as strongly founded as his charm and engaging manner. When my own excellent father died, he left Wickham one thousand pounds and the living at a parish once he had taken orders." Mr. Darcy turned to Bingley, staring earnestly at the man. "Mr. Wickham came to me and requested three thousand pounds instead of the living my father had desired for him. He expressed a desire to study the law, and so I provided him with what he asked so that he could do so. I hoped rather than believed that he would do anything of the sort. A few years passed before his money was spent and he came to me demanding the living. I, of course, denied him it, as a man of his sort cannot be trusted to command a parish." Darcy stopped here and walked to the fireplace, picking up the glass of brandy Bingley had left at the edge of the desk for him. He glanced down at the amber liquid and sipped it before he stared at the flames in front of him. "I have paid Wickham's debts and taken care of the wake of wreckage his dissolute misconduct leaves for years now. It is only this past year that I had sworn to do so never again... I must apologise to you Bingley, I fear it is through my unwillingness to restrain him that he has resorted to such means as this." He trailed off as he thought about Georgiana and what his lack of care and control of Wickham had done to her.

Mr. Bingley stared back at the tall, serious gentleman before him. He had never seen Darcy express so much emotion before. He suddenly seemed so normal, vulnerable, and even hurt. He blinked and shook his head, before standing and walking around the table to meet Darcy. "Good God man, you do not actually blame yourself for all this?" he cried, shaking Darcy out of his current reverie. "I can understand your wanting to bring the cad to justice, but he is his own man and not in your charge. I will not have you blame yourself for any more of his immoralities." Bingley said as he looked seriously into the man's eyes.

"Charles, I will be responsible for this. I will see to it that Miss Lydia Bennet returns to Hertfordshire as Mrs. Wickham, and I will buy his commission in the regulars after I settle his debts here and wherever else he has fled from recently." He said the last with an affected tone of voice, which told Bingley he would brook no argument and looked with his hard black eyes into his friends own of soft green hazel. Bingley sighed and dropped his head, feeling a sense of sympathetic remorse for what his friend must be going through and guilt at the thought that without Darcy he would have never been able to handle this.

"I will do whatever I can and whatever you will allow," he said, grasping Darcy's shoulder.

Letters were written, plans were made, and travel was set for the next day at two. Darcy hauled himself up the stairs that night after an exhausting evening with Miss Bingley and the Hursts. He had almost forgotten how poor the conversation to be had with them was. He reached his room and closed the door behind him, leaning his broad shoulders against it as he loosed his cravat and threw it over the wing-backed chair beside him along with his jacket. He undressed down to his trousers and shirtsleeves and then reclined into an armchair facing the fire. He had not slept more than four hours a night for weeks now, and though he felt the weariness, sleep continued to elude him. So he instead sat and stared into the fire as he went over every inch of the plan he and Bingley had composed.

His mind began to wander and he found his thoughts leading him to a more pleasant subject in the form of the face of a pretty woman and a pair of fine eyes, and tonight he found that he was too weak to rein in his thoughts. He let his head fall back in the chair as he thought about Elizabeth, how desperately despondent she must be feeling, what a strain this all must be on her. He imagined her alone and crying, in despair over the depth of her sister and her own family's ruin. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, to hold her and reassure her that there was nothing to fear, that he would take care of her... It was with these thoughts that he found sleep and dreamed of Elizabeth in his arms, Elizabeth at Pemberly, Elizabeth with him.

~oOo~

It was with a heavy heart and a look of total defeat that Mr. Bennet returned to Longbourn. He and Mr. Gardiner had had no success, hitting only dead ends in their search for Wickham and Lydia, using days of valuable time and wasting money that paid for nothing. He walked through the door of the house and toward the stairs. The house was eerily quiet, with no sound to be heard, not Mary's piano, nor Kitty and Mrs. Bennet chatter. The servants were silently working and tiptoed past any of the family rooms or the parlour, while the few that were in the hall looked upon their master with a sympathetic eye.

"Papa!" a hoarse voice called. He spun around to see his dearest child standing in the entranceway with sprigs of lavender in her hand, her eyes misted over, and then rushing toward him as the servants disappeared from the hallway.

"Lizzy, my dear." He spoke quietly in sorrow filled tones. She put her arms about his and pressed her cheek to his chest as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and placed a kiss atop her hair. She pulled away and looked at him, noting how he seemed as though he had aged ten years in just a few days, with his eyes heavy and dark circles contrasting with his sickly pallor as clear indication of how well he had been resting.

"Papa, you have not slept. How long were you traveling?" she said, shock and concern clearly written across her features. He waved her off and shook his head.

"How can I even think of sleeping at a time like this, Lizzy?" he asked. She stared back into his eyes as he raised a hand to her cheek and said, "You have not slept either, my child." She rested her face on his hand and Mr. Bennet held his dearest daughter.

The next day saw Kitty rushing up the path to Longbourn in floods of tears, as she ran straight into the parlour and into the arms of her sister Jane. "Kitty! Whatever is the matter, dearest?" Jane cried.

"I... I have just been to..." she sobbed, "I have just been to see M... M... Maria Lucas." She stuttered before bursting into tears again. "But, but Mrs. Lucas, Mrs. Lucas wouldn't let me in. She says... That we are... Ruined and not welcome in genteel company." She burst into tears again and buried her face in Jane's shoulder. Elizabeth paled and looked at Jane, who had gone limp and weak at Kitty's declaration. She had been told about the letter from Wickham to Bingley and she had begged Mr. Bingley to feel no obligation to do so and that she would release him from their engagement, which of course he refused. But now that it was out, Jane was certain he would want nothing more to do with her. How could he, as he would be exposing himself and his sisters to the same scandal that the Bennets were suffering now.

~oOo~

The house was still and silent for hours after the discovery that family's downfall was known about Meryton, and an eerily foreboding quiet fell over them as the night set in. No one in the house really slept that night except Mrs. Bennet, who had consumed enough laudanum to keep her unconscious for a full day. The morning after was cold and grey, clouds having set in overnight, leaving the overcast weather to match with the general atmosphere of the home and family.

Elizabeth woke early and pulled the counterpane off, the chill of the morning air flooding over her as she sat up from the bed. She stood and, hugging her arms around herself, she made to way to the window. She sat on the window seat staring out across the fields of the estate and the expanse of trees around it, the sun only just visible as it rose behind the cold, grey clouds, frost clinging to the grass and her window panes. She pressed a hand up to the glass and wiped away the condensation, then watched as water droplets raced down the window and gathered at the wood of the frame pooling at the bottom and dripping onto the window seat.

She raised her head to look back out of the window and observed what would be the first day of the new life they were being forced into. She thought about Lydia and how foolish she had been, but she could not hate her. She was young and had been tricked into believing she was eloping with a man who loved her, and she would be suffering worse than any of those at Longbourn, alone and helpless in the streets of London. Elizabeth had not realised how long she had sat like that until she saw a man on horseback riding up the path. She roused herself from her reverie and rushed to get dressed.

It was only twenty minutes later that she was flying down the stairs, where she heard Mary playing the piano from the far sitting room. She walked toward the parlour, and there she found something she had recently feared she might never see again. She opened the door to the parlour and found her dearest sister Jane smiling.

"Jane, dearest, what ever is it?" she hurried to her sister's side and took her hand.

"Lizzy, he has done it, Charles has found them and had them marry, they are returning tomorrow as man and wife!" cried Jane. Elizabeth sat dumb founded for a moment, the entire morning's emotions of lost hope and sorrow rushing away from her, and then she turned to Jane, embraced her and spoke over her shoulder.

"Where is Mr. Bingley now?" she said.

"Oh," replied Jane, "he is confronting Papa. I know not what he had to do to see them married, but if it is anything like what was demanded by Mr. Wickham, then I can only imagine how Papa will feel. But Lizzy, surely now after what happened to Kitty yesterday, we can only be happy at this result?" she asked. Elizabeth merely smiled at her sister and then looked toward the door, wondering what her father would really be feeling.

It was only a moment later before the door opened and in walked Mr. Bingley and Mr. Bennet, the former looking a little contrite, but not too shaken, and the latter with an unreadable look. Elizabeth looked to her father and, catching his eye, she gave him a questioning look.

"I believe, Jane, that you may wish to go and inform your mother of the news," he said, looking to his eldest. "Tell her that I received word that the wedding took place yesterday morning and that her dearest Lydia will be bringing her betrothed here tomorrow, before they are to leave for the North." he finished and Jane rose, kissed his cheek and walked from the room.

"Now," began Mr. Bennet, "Lizzy, my dearest, I will hide no part of these doings from you. I will need a confidant in this and I highly doubt I would have been able to avoid you inquiries in the end. Mr. Bingley here," he said, gesturing toward the man in question, "has taken it upon himself to track down the scoundrel and your halfwit sister, pay every debt, furnish the cads pockets with I know not how much money, and then see them married as well as buy up his commission in the regulars and, by some miracle, have him transferred to Newcastle." He spoke with an air of disbelief and a little ire. Elizabeth could not feel angry in the least and all her embarrassment was washed away with gratitude as she turned to Mr. Bingley.

"Mr. Bingley, on behalf of my family I must thank you. We would have been lost if it were not for you, sir."

Mr. Bingley fidgeted a little as his face flushed red, nodding his head and said rather quietly, "Please, Miss Elizabeth, do not thank me... it is not due." He looked away contemplatively as he spoke. She looked a little confused at this and so he quickly added "We are to be brother and sister soon are we not? Let this be a simple family matter and nothing more." He smiled shyly.

~oOo~

The arrival of the wedding party was met with mixed emotions from all those at Longbourn. Kitty and Mrs. Bennet were giggling their excitement, Jane smiled with composure, and Mary had a look of severe disapproval, but it can be agreed that relief could be clearly read in each of those expressions. Elizabeth and her father, however, were unreadable, each considering the truth of the matter and how it all came about, from Mr. Bennet's lackadaisical attitude toward his daughter to Mr. Bingley's gallant rescue.

The Wickhams pulled up outside of the house at two o'clock, three hours late. Mr. Wickham stepped out and looked as charming as ever; tall, dark, handsome and an appealing smile on his face but without even the smallest look of contrition marring his features. He turned and handed out the even more foolish than young Mrs. Wickham, who, like her husband, seemed oblivious to the fact they should have both been begging forgiveness. Although they would hardly receive it, so perhaps it was best that everyone follow the pretense of normality under the current circumstance.

As Elizabeth walked through the gardens with her four sisters, she was silent. She did not speak of Lydia's indiscretion, or of Wickham's revelations about his life of debauchery, she did not even speak to Jane. Instead she was perfectly quiet, a small contented smile upon her face. Underneath it all she wanted to grab at the ridiculous Mrs. Wickham and give her and her profligate husband the sit down thy rightly deserved, but, she wouldn't. No, she would be rational, as no good could come from anything other than bearing their visit with perfect composure and then rejoicing when they left. This was what she resolved to do, that is until Lydia began talking about the wedding.

"And my dear George looked so fetching on our wedding day, I wished he could have worn his regimentals, but of course he could not, and I so wanted to have you there, Kitty to stand with me but in the end it was Aunt Gardener who stood with me, and Mr. Bingley was supposed to stand with my dear Wickham until Mr. Darcy showed up and practically held him at the alter. He almost ruined my wedding, that man! Arguing so much with my dear George..." Elizabeth was shaken from her resolve at this and she looked up at Lydia.

"Mr. Darcy? Lydia what are you saying? He was at your wedding?!" she said.

"OH!" cried Lydia, "I was not supposed to say, no Mr. Darcy came with Bingley. He was in an even fouler mood than I've ever seen and was awful to my dear Wickham. He was even ordering Bingley around!" she said matter of factly.

Elizabeth was more embarrassed than she'd care to admit to think that Mr. Darcy knew of her family's near ruin. It made her very uncomfortable, and she could not name why. She had never cared for his opinion, but to know that he now had good reason to look so far down upon her was a hard blow. Why she cared she did not know, and she was unwilling to consider it. She knew not the truth of the history between Wickham and Mr. Darcy, but she certainly no longer felt that Mr. Wickham's account of events held any validity. She actually found she was curious as to the truth of the story, but knew there was no way to ever find out without disregard for propriety. The embarrassment she felt worsened when she realised that Mr. Bingley had obviously called upon his friend for help with recovering her delinquent sister. He must have had information on Wickham that was of use.

"Perhaps," she thought, "we owe some thanks to Mr. Darcy, though from what Lydia said he did not do so willingly. I am glad he is enough of a gentleman to at least help his friend." She felt guilty once she had thought it, for though he may have been disagreeable, she could no longer hate him for a snide comment against her beauty. She sighed and went back into her silent contemplation.

The couple stayed for just four days before Wickham had to report to Newcastle, and so they left on a Wednesday afternoon, late of course. After the carriage pulled away, the Bennets all returned to the house and it was mere moments before Mrs. Bennet began her next conquest of marriage for her progeny.

"Oh Jane, my dear Jane, we must continue your wedding plans now that the excitement over Lydia has died down. Do you know I saw Mrs. Lucas yesterday, and I'm sure you can imagine her embarrassment to see my dear Mrs. Wickham accompanied by me and her husband, buying her pretty trinkets. Well, I dare say she will speak of nothing now but how her daughter and Mr. Collins will someday have this house!" she said the last with a sharp glare in Elizabeth's direction but then continued her effusions over Jane.

A.N:

I'd like to just take a moment of your time to acknowledge and thank my beta who has made an immense difference and done the work twice as fast as I'd expected! I hope you're all enjoying it thus far, the reviews are really motivating so thank you all!