"So you killed Wickham in a duel, before his fiancée's eyes, who was already somehow with child despite the only time they spent alone being a hurried carriage ride, and now she is to go off to an island in the company of a sailor's wife for… how long?" Bingley asked.
"I don't know. I never planned this, Bingley," Darcy explained. "I thought when I stopped his elopement with Georgiana that I had seen the last of him. Seeing him in Meryton was like seeing some foul ghost risen from an unhallowed grave, and among those innocent — or mostly innocent — girls. Lydia's instinct for mischief is bad enough without involving him."
"She thought him a respected militia officer," Bingley pointed out. "She knew nothing of his history and, being a sheltered girl, knew nothing of what he was capable. Hell, Darcy, you had never even told me what happened, and I imagine your cousin only knows because he was also Georgiana's guardian."
Darcy could only nod.
"So you need to dispose of this girl respectably, in some way that she will not be tempted to wander off."
Hands waving about his temples indicated how impossible Darcy felt was this task.
"Perhaps another officer in his regiment might be moved by her plight. Officers seems to be all she is enthusiastic about, from what Jane has said."
"But to ask… it would be a monstrous proposal."
"But if another officer were to ask, man to man?"
"Have you become so intimate with any of the officers during their stay here that you could propose such a favor?" asked Darcy unbelieving.
"No, but you have such an officer in your corner," Bingley prompted.
Darcy stared up at his friend, drawing a blank.
"Your cousin, of course."
"Fitzwilliam," Darcy said, rocking back. "I to ask Fitzwilliam to importune officers, militia officers, until he finds one willing to marry the girl."
"It's your responsibility. Wickham never would have eloped with her but for that dowry."
A sense of responsibility crashed down upon Darcy, who faintly agreed to write to the colonel, who had gone back to his regiment.
Elizabeth, refreshed by her walk, found the men, Darcy writing haggardly, a crumbled heap of discarded letters in the basket by his foot, Bingley smoking thoughtfully, watching him.
Bingley leaped up at her entrance, extinguishing his cigar and rushing to greet her.
"Mrs. Darcy, welcome back, it is so good to see you. I trust all was well with your friends?"
"Yes, they are very well," she said distractedly.
Bingley prudently withdrew from the room.
Darcy blearily looked up at Elizabeth, the ache in his fingers from gripping the quill too tightly suddenly eclipsed by stronger feelings within.
"Oh my dear Mr. Darcy," she said involuntarily at the sight of his tired face, drawing close and brushing her fingers over his brow. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hands, relief that she was somehow not upset with him filling his heart with peace.
"I have never seen writing a letter bring you so much trouble," Elizabeth said after a few deep breaths.
"It is the manner of this letter to be troublesome," he explained, reluctance to broach the topic warring with a desire to do so.
"Bingley suggested that Col. Fitzwilliam could… somehow facilitate an alliance between your youngest sister and an officer. I was trying to write to ask but was finding success beyond my strength."
Guilt wracked her that her own sister had occasioned such suffering in the still-injured man. She urged him up and away from the writing desk.
"You mustn't think of such a thing until you are well. You need rest, not trouble. We must put you to bed."
Darcy helplessly acquiesced, relieved beyond measure to have decisions taken from him for the moment, at least.
When his man had dressed him for bed, having rewrapped his wound, which was closing, he lay in bed, hoping for his wife's tap on the door.
He was not disappointed, nor long tried in patience. He was slightly disheartened that she was still in dinner clothes, but that she had come to check on him was much.
Her eyes softened upon seeing him safe in bed. She approached swiftly, her eyes boring into him.
"That is the very place for you, dear husband," she said, smiling.
"My place is wherever you choose to put me," he replied.
The two girls sat on the couch near the pianoforte, which they had not touched.
"I had thought when I saw him going to debtor's prison, that I had been through the worst of it," Georgiana confessed. "But that he escaped, tried to elope with Miss Lydia Bennet. And brother fought him and killed him…" She shook her head.
Mary wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulders.
"And he had been your god-brother?" she asked.
"He was always there when I was little," Georgiana explained, drawing comfort from Mary's interest. "I missed him when I went to Ramsgate, and I had been so happy to see him there. His declaration of love was so surprising, and I wanted to make him happy and attach him to me, so I accepted."
"It must have seen an unexceptional match, as he was so intimate with your family," Mary said.
"Yes, I had not known there was any unpleasantness between brother and him. He said there must be secrecy until we were wed, but he did not explain why."
Anger flared in Mary's heart at the danger her friend's ignorance had placed her in.
"Mr. Darcy should have warned you," she said bitterly.
"Yes, perhaps he should have. But I understand that he has always thought me sensitive. When he picked a home for me, he chose one that was supposed to be healthful, away from harmful associations, though far from Pemberley. I suppose he was thinking of my protection in that as well. Oh, you will come visit me at Ramsgate? It is a pretty place, but I have no friends there such as you."
Mary assured her of her readiness to visit. Georgiana looked so warmly at her that Mary felt capable of anything to please her.
"Lydia is with child?" Jane cried in horror. "But she is unwed!"
Bingley desperately tried to backpedal, to somehow take back and re-say his words.
"Darcy said that Mrs. Darcy said that Mrs. Romney said that she was probably with child," he explained.
He had found Jane happily arranging her new room and had gratefully slipped into conversation with her, seeking her advice. He did not reckon properly on her horrified reaction to her sister's unlucky condition.
"Then perhaps this is a misunderstanding. Surely she could not become with child simply from a carriage ride. It takes a marital bed, does it not?"
Bingley gulped. "I… um… I am not sure."
"There must be a misunderstanding somewhere. I will speak with Lydia and ascertain the matter. I will go to Longbourn tomorrow."
"Very well, my love, I'm sure you know best," Bingley said, relieved.
By the time Georgiana's carriage arrived back at Netherfield, it was time for supper. The company gathered around the supper table was nearly silent, Darcy bleary-eyed and his hair slightly disheveled.
After the covers were removed, Jane hastened with Elizabeth to the drawing room. Fortunately, Georgiana claimed weariness and went straight to her room.
"Lizzy, is it true that Lydia is with child by Wickham?" she immediately braced her sister.
"Mrs. Romney thought so, having talked with her," Elizabeth admitted.
"But, they never… they never could have… they were only in a carriage. She could not be with child."
Elizabeth flushed. "Yes, Jane, she could be."
"But without a marital bed, how?"
"A man and a woman do not need a bed for the… commingling, that makes a child. Has not your experience…" Elizabeth could go no further.
"But… in a carriage?" Jane asked, incredulous.
"All that it takes is for the man to shed his passion into her," Elizabeth explained, blushing furiously. "That is what starts the child."
Jane's eyes went distant for a moment.
"So when my mother said that my husband must lie upon me…"
"I'm sure that is her experience. But a bed is not needed."
"But I felt like I needed him to lie upon me," Jane said suddenly.
"Yes, that feeling is strong," Elizabeth admitted. "But it is not all."
"I did not know… And yet we could both already be with child!" she exclaimed, reaching for her own belly and looking down in wonder.
Fortunately, Jane did not catch the look on Elizabeth's face and questioned her no longer, but kissed her good night and went to bed.
By the time Elizabeth had undressed for bed and knocked on her husband's door, he was sound asleep.
Georgiana laid upon the bed, still feeling the pianoforte keys on her fingertips. She thought of Mary's fingers as they struck the keys. Their firmness of touch lit a quivering in her inner being as novel as it was pleasant. She let her mind drift, thinking of Mary's hands, how her prickliness gave way to friendliness under her overtures. Never before had she had to win anyone's approval, and she felt curiously as if some wild beast had let her caress it.
Mary had agreed to come and visit her. Her lips widened in a smile as she thought of the delights of her new friend's company, a great balm for her heartaches.
Her fingers drummed upon the bedspread, then upon her thighs so that she could better feel how her fingers struck. As she did, the feeling within gained strength, the memory of Mary's fingers resonating with it.
Deeply moved, she pressed her hands against her thighs, trying to dampen the now-overwhelming sensation. Her body quivered relentlessly, and it was with much effort that she quieted herself for sleep.
Miss Bingley left Rosings in haste after the servant had announced the news of Wickham's death. The outcome shocked each of them, who had taken his success for granted.
Caroline had been near to panic. To think that Darcy was capable of such violence, to think that she had a hand in unleashing that violence — she paced as the lady's maid packed. She felt oddly raw to harsh realities of life in a way that she had never experienced before. The urge to return to the familiar surroundings of town, where she would be admired and could focus some of that admiration into tangible terms, compelled beyond all. She determined to not face Darcy or her brother again until she could do so as a married woman.
Louisa started as she beheld her sister. Caroline looked pale and wan. Never had Louisa seen travel affect her sister so, and never a trip to town. She bustled the weary woman into a comfortable chair and rang for a servant. Feeling Caroline's forehead, she began to inquire about her health.
Soothed by her older sister's attentions, she began — for the first time since the servant had brought the dreadful news — to relax.
The need to unburden herself came hard and fast upon her, and she found herself speaking quick.
"Oh Louisa, it was so tragic. I cannot tell you how it came about… it is so terrible."
Her sister looked at her with wonder and worry. What could have transpired on a country visit to an old aunt that could be spoken of as tragic? She gave directions to a servant to bring brandy-laced tea, and pressed Caroline to confide in her.
"You were visiting Darcy's aunt, Lady Catherine, in Kent. What happened? I was so surprised that you did not return so that we could go into Hertfordshire for the wedding, but I made our excuses, and Charles was so concerned about the wedding that he did not even respond to my note."
"Yes, I called upon Lady Catherine. I knew she had reason to be angered with Darcy, and with Eliza Bennet, for having defied her. I… informed her about Lydia Bennet's attempted elopement with the youngest Bennet girl and that its failure had left him in debtor's prison outside London. She advanced the coin to not only free him and pay for a quick passage to Scotland, but she set servants to find where the girl had been sent to school. Somehow they managed the business and he made off with the girl, taking the road to Gretna Green."
Louisa stared at her. Such plotting was beyond anything they two had ever ventured upon. She, herself, had from time to time assisted in a maneuver to leave her sister with Mr. Darcy, or from time to time another suitor. But to take a girl from her school — she thought of what her own headmistress would have said, how she would have looked upon such a dire occasion. Her imagination failed her.
"They went to Scotland to wed?" she asked, groping for words in her stunned state.
"They were almost there when Darcy somehow caught him," Caroline said, the shock of his foiling her hidden plan swelling in her breast to compass her throat.
"So they were not wed?" Louisa asked, struggling.
"They… no, they were not wed. The servant said that Darcy brought swords, that he challenged Wickham. And that Darcy… that Wickham did not survive the fight."
The communication of violent death shook Louisa. They had never met Wickham, but that he had been Darcy's boyhood companion, almost brother, was a part of his history that had not been concealed from them as the acquaintance had deepened. That the staid, proud Mr. Darcy had fought a roadside duel, had spilled his own god-brother's life's blood. It was too much to be comprehended. The two realities would not dwell together in her mind, and she reeled.
"How… Mr. Darcy?!" were all the words that escaped her. The delivery of Caroline's tea filled the pause.
"The servant was too much shaken to say more, though Lady Catherine questioned him closely."
Louisa fell into another chair and held her head in her hands.
"But killed… Mr. Darcy positively killed Mr. Wickham?"
"I believe he did," Caroline said. "The servant did seem sure."
Louisa gulped but rallied and set herself to thinking of consequences.
"Is there any possibility that Mr. Darcy knows about his aunt's — or your — hand in the elopement of his god-brother and sister-in-law?"
"I do not see that he could," Caroline said slowly, trying to think through any possible points of communication. "Lady Catherine's servants seem devoted to her. They were not to reveal the identity of Wickham's benefactor to him, so he could not have told the girl."
"That is well then," Louisa declared. "He will be too busy with his new family to think of pursuing the case. As long as we do not give him any reason to…" Louisa trailed off, a look of concern suddenly haunting her face.
Caroline, who enlivened by the doctored tea, had begun pacing while they talked, wheeled at the change in her sister's tone and a few steps brought her to Louisa's side.
"What, Louisa, what have you thought of?"
"I… well, you had been so disappointed in Darcy. And what we had heard the Bennet girl's elopement was so ridiculous. And the season was so dull. I could not help but share the story with a few people," she admitted.
Fear gripped the pit of Caroline's stomach. "You have been spreading gossip about Darcy's sister-in-law, the youngest sister of the wife he coveted enough to set his whole family and society at naught to wed?" she asked slowly.
Silence hung heavy in the room until Louisa uttered a small "Yes."
Caroline mentally stared in horror at the situation. To her, it seemed impossible but that Darcy would discover her or her sister's hand in one or the other outrage against his honor. That he might come to town, that he might condemn her, or merely cut her in society — it was not to be thought of! She must go.
"I shall have to go from town. To Bristol, if all else fails."
Louisa stared at her sister, this succeeding amazement falling on her like a heavy weight.
"To… Bristol? You would go to the old house?"
"If nothing better offers. I cannot think of meeting Darcy, and if he comes to town it would be impossible to avoid."
Louisa shook her head. Caroline hated Bristol. For her to propose returning there bespoke disaster.
"I'm sure that will not be necessary," Louisa said reassuringly. "Several eligible gentlemen have asked for you when you were from town. One will be sure to invite you to visit in the country before long."
Hope flared in Caroline's breast at her sister's words. An invitation, a proposal, these spoke safety to her, spoke of escape from the terrible, unforeseen consequences of her petty act of vengeance. She bitterly regretted having involved herself in the Wickham matter and only great distance from all scenes associated with it could allay her fear. Her close questioning about persons and parties upcoming fully occupied both, and it was some time before Louisa was able to reveal to Caroline that by next year, that she would be an aunt.