Chapter Twenty-One – A Surprising Elopement
"Where are we going – and to what purpose?" demanded Elizabeth.
"To Stoke – a couple of hours to the west. And as to the purpose – you may read this," said Darcy, handing her a letter.
My Dear Nephew,
I have a service to demand of you which is of the utmost urgency and delicacy.
Upon my return from Derbyshire, I was aghast to discover that my daughter, Anne, had been prevailed upon to elope! With none other than that disgraceful blackguard, George Wickham!
I immediately interrogated her maid and extracted the whole sordid story from her – you may be certain that she is no longer in my employ!
It would seem that during my stay in London last winter, that scoundrel, Wickham, managed to gain entrance to the grounds at Rosings Park (doubtless, he bribed a gardener – and woe betide that disloyal knave, when I discover which of them it was) and imposed himself upon the attentions of my poor innocent daughter, while she was out all alone in the garden – without her erstwhile companion, Mrs Jenkinson – whom I immediately sent packing for her dereliction of duty to my poor dear Anne.
The innocent naïve child must have fallen under the spell of that dastardly Wickham, for there were subsequent clandestine meetings in the gardens, and she was very soon persuaded to believe herself to be in love with him. But unluckily for the blackguard, I returned from town before he succeeded in convincing Anne to agree to elope with him.
Regrettably, he managed to carry on a secret correspondence, with the aid of my daughter's lady's maid – I should have known better than to have chosen a French maid for her – the French are not to be trusted!
The evil villain was only awaiting the opportunity, and as soon I left for Derbyshire, my poor besotted girl wrote to him, and he persuaded her to rendezvous with him outside the Park gates, from whence he spirited her away!
You cannot imagine the anguish and pain that have assailed me since first I learned the terrible news. Were I a man, I would go after him with sword and pistol and put an end to the miserable life of the most deceitful, damnable libertine who ever lived!
They were not very many hours gone when I arrived back at Rosings Park, and I am yet hopeful that they shall be apprehended before they reach Scotland. My coachman, Johnson, is tolerably sure of the route they shall take, and assures me that my postilion, on horseback, if he rides day and night, stopping only to change horses, will overtake them – very likely around Staffordshire, which is not so very far from Pemberley.
Since he would be unable to prevail upon my daughter to return, I have instructed the postilion that as soon as he discovers them, he should send you an express, giving their location and bearing this letter.
Fitzwilliam, only you can save the good name of my daughter, myself, and all of our family! You must apprehend them – it is your solemn duty!
But a note of caution: You must attempt to ascertain, at once, if my daughter's honour has been compromised. If she is yet a maiden, then send her back to Rosings Park immediately. As for that wretched Wickham, you may do with him as you please. Were I a man, I would run him through with my sword!
However, if you are certain that the devil has had his wicked way with my poor innocent girl, then there is nothing for it, but to allow them to proceed to Gretna Green to be married; and I shall immediately arrange to have them packed off to America or one of the colonies, to spare the family from certain opprobrium, and the double disgrace of elopement and the connection to Wickham.
Yours, etc,
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
Elizabeth shook her head. "Your aunt will rue the day that she chose to come all the way to Derbyshire in her futile attempt at persuading you not to marry me."
"Indeed so. She would have much better stayed at Rosings Park and watched over Anne."
"Yes, for while your aunt was in Derbyshire attempting to blacken my name with her wildly inaccurate report of my sister's disgrace, beginning with her elopement with George Wickham, her own daughter was preparing to emulate it. Is your aunt aware of the identity of Anne's father?"
"That, I do not know. My mother may have informed her, but I saw nothing in their correspondence concerning Anne, to suggest that she had."
"What wrote the postilion, in his express?"
"That he caught them up at Stoke, where it appears they intend to rest for the night. He remains outside The Crown, keeping watch, and awaits me there. I hope he is correct, for it is some hours since the express was sent; for naturally, the rider first went to Pemberley, only to discover that I was at Ashbourne."
When they arrived at The Crown, the postilion immediately recognised Mr Darcy, and told him that Mr Wickham and Miss de Bourgh were within, and gave him directions to their room.
Darcy knocked on the door, and thinking it was the servant, Wickham threw it open. Before he had realised his mistake, Darcy and Elizabeth had entered a small sitting room. Anne looked utterly horrified at the sight of her relative, and appeared greatly embarrassed and discomposed.
"What is the purpose of this uninvited intrusion?" demanded Wickham weakly, unable to muster the authority his words demanded.
"I wish to speak with my cousin," said Darcy coldly.
"She does not wish to speak with you," said Wickham desperately.
"Anne," said Darcy, "I have a message from your mother, which she insists upon your hearing; I insist upon it also."
Anne was terrified; she looked from Wickham, who was shaking his head emphatically, to Darcy, who appeared most serious and determined. It was apparent that she was utterly confused and did not know which of them she must obey.
"Mr Darcy," said Elizabeth, "perhaps you will permit me to speak with Miss de Bourgh?"
Darcy nodded his assent.
"But I will not!" exclaimed Wickham. "Anne, I forbid it. Do not listen to her lies," he implored her.
Anne stood frozen and white-faced. Fearing that she might fall into a swoon, Elizabeth rushed forward and took her by the arm.
"Anne," said Darcy firmly, but gently, "please go with Miss Bennet and hear what she has to say."
Anne nodded timidly, and led Elizabeth into the bedroom, where there was a small sofa upon which they sat.
"Miss de Bourgh," said Elizabeth. "I speak not for your mother, but myself, when I tell you that I have known Mr Wickham for almost two years, and that he is unquestionably, a lying, deceiving seducer of innocent young ladies."
"I do not believe it; you must be mistaken, Miss Bennet. Though my own mother told me of the accusation that Mr Wickham had eloped with your younger sister, I now know that, like everyone else, Mother was deceived. Mr Wickham is the most honourable of gentlemen, who has been grievously wronged by the slander of others. It was not he, but another officer who ran off from Brighton with your sister. Mr Wickham heroically gave chase, and his reward was to have the crime wrongly attributed to himself. He has told me how he searched in vain for your sister, that he might prove his innocence, but sadly he was unable to find her."
Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "I am very sorry, Miss de Bourgh, but you have been imposed upon by a most skilful deceiver. My sister, Lydia, is presently secluded in Suffolk, where I have visited her on three occasions, and heard the story of her elopement first-hand. Although, in truth, it was not really an elopement, for though he deceived my sister into believing they were bound for Gretna Green, that was never Mr Wickham's intention – he never intended to marry my sister; for she was too poor, and it has always been his ambition to make his fortune by marrying a lady of wealth – such as yourself."
"I do not believe you! What, then, could have been his intention, in taking your sister from Brighton, if it was not to marry her?"
"You are rather naïve, Miss de Bourgh, in the ways of men. His reason was the same as that of gentlemen who visit ladies of ill-repute."
"You must be mistaken! Mr Wickham assured me that he was as innocent in such matters as myself. Is your sister quite certain that it was him?"
"Absolutely certain. Mr Wickham abandoned my sister without money or paying the landlord – in an attempt to elope with another young lady, a Miss King. In that instance, it was a genuine attempt at elopement, for Miss King had ten thousand pounds. But fortunately for her, they were apprehended by relatives in the north of England before they could reach Scotland."
Miss de Bourgh shook her head, not wanting to believe what she heard.
"If you do not trust me, Miss de Bourgh, your cousin, Mr Darcy, can verify everything I have just now told you. He can also inform you of a case, of which he has personal knowledge, in which Mr Wickham attempted – fortunately, again unsuccessfully – to elope with a girl of but fifteen years of age, who was in possession of a substantial fortune."
"But… he said that he loved me," she murmured pitifully.
"Miss de Bourgh, consider – how could he have been in love with you when he had never met you? What could possibly have induced him to go to such extraordinary lengths to meet with you surreptitiously in your garden at Rosings Park? The only thing he could possibly have known about you when he formed his plan, was that you were exceedingly rich."
Miss de Bourgh began sobbing into her handkerchief, and Elizabeth was so overcome with pity that she attempted to comfort her.
"I have been a complete fool," she said. "And I believed that he loved me; and I fancied that I loved him. Whatever am I to do, Miss Bennet?"
"Has he... are you still a maiden, Miss de Bourgh? You do understand my meaning?"
"Yes, I understand your meaning. But no… I am not, he has…. Will Mother be very angry with me, do you think?" she asked fretfully. "She must have sent Mr Darcy a letter, or how else would he have known where to find us? What would she have me do? Mother always knows what is best to be done – if only I had not been so foolish and attempted to deceive her."
Elizabeth sighed. "Your mother did write a letter, and in it she said that if you were no longer a maiden then you should proceed to Gretna Green with Mr Wickham, to be married; after which she would arrange to have you both packed off to America, or one of the colonies."
"No!" exclaimed Miss de Bourgh, desperately. "Now that I know that he is only after my money, and is not truly in love with me, I do not wish to marry the horrible man! Nor would I wish to go off to some beastly uncivilized country. I want to go home, to Rosings Park, to Mother," she pleaded.
"And so you shall," said Elizabeth comfortingly, "for you can never marry George Wickham – it is not legal."
"I am very pleased to hear it; but I do not understand. Why is it not legal?"
"Because Mr Wickham is your half-brother – you and he have the same father."
Miss de Bourgh looked stunned as she contemplated this astonishing news. At length, she looked up at Elizabeth thoughtfully, and asked, "Who, then, is our father? Is it Sir Lewis de Bourgh or Mr Wickham senior?"
"I am sorry, I cannot reveal anything further. But if, when you return to Rosings Park, your mother should attempt to force you to marry Mr Wickham, please tell her what I have just said; she will understand. You may also inform her that Mr Darcy has papers to prove the matter, and which, would most certainly serve to overturn such a marriage."
Miss de Bourgh finally gave a faint smile. "Thank you, Miss Bennet. I think I should like to go home now."
When they re-entered the sitting room, Mr Wickham approached Miss de Bourgh with an affectionate smile. "Anne, my dear," he said.
But ignoring him, she said to her cousin, "I wish to go home, to Mother."
Darcy reassured her, "And so you shall, Anne; come with me."
When he opened the door, he was greeted by a constable whom the postilion had called, on Mr Darcy's instruction.
"Mr Darcy, sir," he said respectfully; for as a magistrate, his reputation was known throughout the district.
"I shall be back in a minute or two, constable; please ensure that this gentleman does not leave the room," said Darcy, before closing the door and departing with Miss de Bourgh.
"Very good, sir," replied the constable, resuming his post in the hallway, in front of the door.
George Wickham looked vexed, but unrepentant. "Do not think that you have thwarted me, Miss Bennet," he said testily.
Elizabeth seated herself, ignoring him.
"I do not know if Miss de Bourgh has revealed the shameful truth to you, but sadly for her, it is too late for her to return home, and pretend to be an innocent young maiden," he said with a self-satisfied smile. "I shall write to Lady Catherine, and make her aware of the circumstances, after which she will beg me to marry her daughter," he said smugly.
"I have information, sir, that I choose not to disclose to you, that makes me quitecertain that she will wish for no such thing."
"Well, to be honest," said Wickham, "I really have not the least desire to marry Miss de Bourgh, anyway; for she is a lifeless little thing, who bores me to death. I will be more than happy to accept thirty or forty thousand pounds to keep my silence on the matter, and never trouble either Lady Catherine, or her daughter, ever again."
"In that case, I do not expect to hear about you everagain, Mr Wickham – which I cannot say will cause me the slightest unhappiness."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Only that Lady Catherine is a most ruthless woman when it comes to protecting her own interests. I imagine that it would not cost her more than, say, one or two hundred pounds, to ensure your permanent silence, Mr Wickham."
"What are you suggesting, Miss Bennet? That a lady in her position would behave so immorally as to have me murdered?"
"Unscrupulous behaviour is not the preserve of the likes of yourself, alone, Mr Wickham. Lady Catherine, though exceedingly wealthy, is a firm believer in the virtue of making economies; and would have little difficulty, I imagine, in persuading herself that it would be morally reprehensible to spend thirty or forty thousand pounds on something that she could equally well purchase for one or two hundred. And she might even consider herself to be performing an act of Christian benevolence, in saving other young ladies from the pain you have already inflicted upon several – not least of all, her own daughter."
"You must be joking with me, I think, Miss Bennet," said Wickham, attempting a smile.
"Am I?" asked Elizabeth, raising an eyebrow.
Their conversation was interrupted by Mr Darcy entering the room in the company of the constable.
"I have sent the young lady home, constable. I should be greatly obliged to you if this rogue could be locked up, for several days, to prevent him giving chase."
"Certainly, Mr Darcy, I shall do just as you say. Come along, come along, you," he said, taking Mr Wickham roughly by the arm.
Darcy escorted Elizabeth outside, and helped her into his carriage. "I have sent Anne back to Kent in a hired carriage, in the company of her mother's postilion. I must say that she took it all surprisingly calmly, considering the circumstances."
Elizabeth recounted her conversation with Anne de Bourgh, and Darcy was most impressed. "How very clever of you, my dear, to enlighten her as to her true relationship with Wickham, yet without giving away any of the details. Anne will give the information to my aunt; who, if she was not already aware of the true identity of Anne's father, will most certainly comprehend it now."
"And knowing that you are in possession of documents that prove the relationship, your aunt will not dare attempt to force her unfortunate daughter to marry Wickham; for she must know that their union could be challenged and invalidated."
"Wickham will most certainly attempt to extort money from my aunt in order to buy his silence, regarding Anne's loss of honour."
Elizabeth related her conversation with Wickham on that very subject.
Darcy smiled grimly. "You gave him very good advice, darling; for I can well imagine my aunt making exactly those economies to which you alluded, and justifying them in the manner you described."
"I imagine that your aunt will manage to convince herself that the whole episode never occurred, and that her daughter is still innocent; for she has an extraordinary capacity to convince herself of whatever she wishes to be true."
"Yes, very probably," replied Darcy.
"Unless…."
"What?"
"What if Anne is with child?" asked Elizabeth.
"I sincerely hope that it is not the case. Aside from the obvious reasons for wishing it, Anne's constitution is poor. She would have difficulty enduing the ordeal of childbirth."
"Given the frailty of her health, she would very probably lose the baby long before that point arrived," said Elizabeth. "But if she did somehow manage to bear a child, I imagine that your aunt would keep Anne hidden away, and the baby would be immediately given up for adoption in a manner that would conceal all clues as to its origins."
"Yes, I am certain you are correct. Regardless of whether Anne is with child or not, it would be difficult for my aunt to marry Anne off now, I think," reflected Darcy.
"I suspect, that having failed to marry her to either yourself, or your cousin, your aunt may well decide that there is no one else worthy enough; and, in any case, she would be lonely without Anne, whom I strongly suspect, will very likely wish never to marry."
"Yes, I think your conjecture is most likely correct."
"But what then will become of Anne when your aunt dies? She is so naïve. Does she inherit Rosings Park?"
"Yes, she does. And although the steward will manage the estate day-to-day, there will be matters that require the oversight of the proprietor. When the time comes, I shall be obliged to offer to assist Anne in that capacity, for she is incapable of performing the office herself."
"She will, doubtless, be very happy to accept your offer. But it must entail a considerable responsibility."
"Yes, it does; but, after-all, she is my half-sister. It will be my duty to look after her interests."
"Why do we not spend a few weeks, each year, at Rosings Park – perhaps after the season in town?" suggested Elizabeth. "While you are attending to the business of the estate, I shall have the opportunity to spend time with Charlotte, and to provide a little companionship to Anne, who will, I fear, be very lonely when her mother has gone."
"Yes; an excellent idea! You know, my dear, when I first received the express at Ashbourne, I immediately wished to have you accompany me – primarily because I knew it would be a most difficult undertaking, and that you would know what was best to be done."
"Thank you, darling, you may be sure that I shall treasure those words always – and remind you of them, if ever we have a difference of opinion. And now, I shall be so brazen as to ask for not one, but for two rewards."
"You know I can never refuse you anything, my dearest Elizabeth; tell me your heart's desire."
"The first, is that despite your promise to your father, you allow Julia her heart's desire; which is to tell Captain Radford who are her parents. It would mean so very much to her."
Darcy smiled. "That is easily granted, for I have been considering the matter myself, and have concluded that it is her right to do so. And what is your second request? I hope that it will be as easily satisfied."
"Oh yes, very easily indeed, my dear," said Elizabeth mischievously. "We have a long ride ahead of us, and being alone like this in your carriage, affords us a privacy that we will seldom enjoy before we are married. I think we should make good use of the time," she said, turning her face towards his.
"But, darling," said he, "I had only told you the first reason why I wished you to accompany me to Stoke," he said, placing his arm around her waist and drawing her towards himself. "This was, in fact, my second reason."
And neither of them spoke for a considerable time after that.
Eventually, Elizabeth said, "Darling, if Anne de Bourgh should remain an old maid, what will become of Rosings Park? Who will inherit it upon her death?"
Darcy considered the question for some time, before answering. "If memory serves me correct... yes, it would pass to our second son – for the first, of course, will inherit Pemberley."
"Second son?" asked Elizabeth archly. "You are aware, are you not, sir, that I am one of five daughters; and though he greatly wished for sons, my own father produced not a single one."
"He cannot have tried hard enough or for long enough," said Darcy, smiling. "I mean to try very hard, indeed."
Epilogue tomorrow
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