Thank you for your kind reviews. We will stick with the Colonel until we get to the morning after the Darcys' wedding night or so.
There is more disgustingness from John in this chapter, but if you've made it this far I don't think I need to give further warnings. Consider yourself forewarned going forward that the sorts of things you have earlier read may appear again.
21. Darcy Left?
After I told my brother and cousin of my plans to rescue Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and received such opposition, I could not help but be disgusted by how callous they were. While I expected it from my brother John, I had not thought Darcy would side with him.
It is not unusual for me to have a drink or two before bed on occasion to calm my morose and intrusive thoughts, to suppress memories of the agony of injury and death on the battlefield. I used to indulge more but need it less now. However on this occasion, I drank rather more than I ought, both to mellow my anger at John and Darcy, and quell my worry for Miss Bennet and her family. Even so, sleep did not find me for a very long time as I considered John's and Darcy's reactions.
John grew up with such privilege and attention as the heir, had so much more time with my father, and my father tried to mold him to be like a copy of himself. From a young age, anything John desired was his for the asking, or simply just taking and it was no different when it came to women. I recall when he was home from having finished Eton (before I was old enough to attend), hearing him brag about diddling the young scullery the year before, paying for favors from his bed maker while at Eton and how he had just assigned an upstairs maid the additional duty of attending to his yard. When I told my father of these incidents, he called for my brother, summarized my account and sternly asked John "Is this true?"
John bowed his head and while staring at his feet said, "Yes, Father."
I believe John and I both were expecting he would receive a dressing down, be told to leave the maid alone. But instead, Father clapped him on the shoulder and said "I must congratulate you, son, for entering into your manhood, and sooner than I expected. But let me find you a proper mistress. It is bad form to get the staff with child, and if it became noticeable that any had a white swelling and your mother learned of it . . . ."
Father grimaced, "Well your mother would give me a hard time of it, try to insist on certain provisions for her. Far better that your mother never sees the fruit of your activities. Now if you can content yourself with that maid's hands and mouth and give her some extra coin for her trouble, I see no harm in that, but you must have someone nearby to attend to your full appetites here (I'm sure we can find someone suitable in the village), and then we must also find someone at Cambridge." I was then dismissed.
Later, when my brother and I were alone, he narrowed his eyes and said in an angry voice "Richie, I should box your ears for tattling to Father." Then he softened his tone and added, "But I shant. For in truth you did me a favor. Not only is Father providing better women for me than I could procure on my own, he has increased my funds." John then offered me his hand. I tentatively took it, and he gave me a painfully hard handshake.
After that, although I did my best to dissuade him of telling me of it (even though I had some natural prurient curiosity about it all), my brother still bragged to me about his exploits in the years that followed. From everything he said at his time at Cambridge, it seemed like a place not of learning but debauchery.
Hearing about all of John's exploits at Cambridge gave me no desire to attend, and so, as I knew I wished for a posting in the cavalry, after finishing Eton I asked for my father to pay for a commission, explaining I was no academic and wished to begin my profession. He called me a fool, declared "You shall only be young once, you will regret taking on adult responsibilities so soon," but as I held firm, he eventually agreed and also purchased me an appropriate battle steed.
Whether for good or for ill, I certainly matured in taking on such new responsibilities and in looks began to appear older than my age. People now often assume me to be older than Darcy and only a couple of years younger than John, when I am the youngest, two years younger than Darcy in fact. While Darcy has been tempered by the responsibilities he has assumed (with me unable to help with Georgiana's guardianship much, given my responsibility toward King and country), John seems hardly older than he was before I left that first time, not gaining in wisdom or self-control hardly at all.
When I returned for my first long leave as a man of twenty, a lieutenant then in need of time to recover from a serious leg injury, John's conversation primarily consisted of bragging to me about all of his intervening exploits. He seemed to take great pride in plowing as many fields as possible, laughed when I suggested he ought to employ a French letter to protect his health.
But the worst of hearing about all of this, John never shutting his trap despite me requesting it, seemingly enjoying my discomfort, was when he took pride in telling me about taking an unwilling and innocent woman. It made me so angry, to see his grins and smirks, even joy in recounting how she struggled or cried (hoping, but not truly believing, that he might be exaggerating it to bother me).
It was truly awful to be subjected to this, for I could not help but think of the Elizabeth in the tent, or someone doing that to Beth. Too, I desperately wished there was some way to stop him, but short of murder there was not, given his position in life, unwillingness to credit my rebukes no matter how vehemently I voiced them (they only served to amuse him), and our father's unwavering support. Although at times I hated my brother, I also loved him, and perhaps it was cowardly of me but I was unwilling to swing for taking his life, not when there were dozens like him among the men I knew.
I did not understand how John could treat women in such a way, not understand that such behavior was abhorrent, have no compassion, see nothing of our lost Beth in the women he deliberately wronged. But perhaps part of it was that he scarcely acknowledged having a sister, never visited her as I did, only saw he when she was well enough to come down which was very seldom in her last few years.
When returning home this latest time, I became so angry at John's account of how he had misused an innocent young woman, that I drew back my fist to punch him. I swung, but at the last moment opted to hit the wall instead. The pain in my knuckles was awful and John smirked at my distress, but he was not smirking for long when I told him "Next time it will be your face. This, I swear."
But as for my cousin Darcy, I did not expect such opposition to the idea of me possibly marrying Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I had thought Darcy found her pleasant enough company, might have even had a bit of a tendre toward her during our private Easter visit to Rosings (not that he would have ever acted on it, for she of too low of consequence to consider offering marriage and I knew he did not think it right to demean a woman of the gentry by offering a less honorable proposal). Further, I could not understand why my interest seemed to offend him, for if he had once had a mild interest in her, surely that was gone by now for Miss Bennet's name had never crossed his lips once since we left Rosings unless I was the one who brought her up. The way he always sought to change the subject made me certain he recalled how she had no fondness toward him.
Too, while Darcy might think himself miles above Miss Bennet, how could he be offended that I had a different opinion vis-a-vis myself? I was not a future Earl, but a second son obliged to take up a profession and perhaps soon to be a landowner when my great-uncle died, and Darcy could never have expected anything from her but some diversion from Lady Catherine and her ridiculous dictates.
As for Miss Bennet, while she was staying at the parsonage I wished for her to think better of Darcy (for her opinion of him was decidedly low, with her having recounted his ungallant conduct at an assembly, refusing to dance and I suspected that was not the only thing she held against him). I wanted her to know, as I did, that he was in general a good man if rather taciturn and fussy. But her opinion of him seemed fixed despite my attempts to rehabilitate him in her eyes. Hate was perhaps too strong an appellation to give to her feelings toward him, but I was certain she disliked him. Perhaps this, then, might be the reason he did not want me to marry her.
Monday morning I slept rather later than I was typically wont to do, given my difficulty in finding sleep the night before and the after-effects of strong drink. Still, when I came down John remained at his breakfast. Not seeing Darcy there was hardly a surprise as he keeps to country hours. I was surprised then, when John said "Darcy left for London this morning."
"Darcy left?" I felt that perhaps I had misheard.
"Yes, he left a letter stating he had business there."
John gave a half-sided grin, the sort of grin that portended his amusement and perhaps a forthcoming ribald joke. To this he added a wriggling of his dark brown eyebrows. I wondered if he was implying that Darcy might have felt the need to visit a brothel or perhaps had taken a mistress there, but determining not to give my brother any satisfaction, I simply replied "Oh."
Then I asked, "Shall we remain here two more days as you intended?" Darcy had his own carriage in which he had traveled to Rosings from London, while I had traveled in my brother's carriage.
I was anxious to return to London myself, to see about borrowing some money to afford a stay in Meryton and to help Miss Bennet and her family but I well knew my place, that we would not leave until my brother determined to go. I hoped that if Miss Bennet were to accept my suit that it would then be seen as proper for me to assist her family.
I wondered if I should also take a side trip to see Great Uncle Alfred in Bath (he was there to take the waters) and try to obtain his consent for my suit. He had good days and bad, but on one of his good days I was almost certain I could convince him of the nobility of seeking such a marriage.
Great Uncle Alfred had never married, and it was rumored he might be a backdoor man, but from what he had told me, I suspected he had no interest in either female or male company for such a purpose. He was an avid hunter who both shot and set snares. He preferred his solitude but for his hunting hounds. However, I had been given the great privilege of hunting with him thrice, being granted the renewed privilege (while my brother had not), I supposed because I had taken seriously his admonition to walk quietly and remain silent.
Great Uncle Alfred had come into his inheritance only the year before, following the death of his younger nephew (my mother's brother) with no issue. By then he could no longer hunt and his two remaining hounds were elderly and slept the day away near his hearth. He had summoned me six months earlier when I was at home recovering from my latest injury and gave me a copy of his will, leaving me the modest estate which was all that was left after his dissolute brother and then nephew sold most of it away. The manor was retained, as well as fields which brought in some four thousand pounds per year after expenses, but in its heyday and prior size, it had once brought in almost twenty-thousand pounds.
When I told him "I thank you for the honor," but then asked why he was leaving it to me, he explained that he liked me better than his other male relatives because I was not all et up with pride and knew the value of honest work.
He also told me, "I should not like to think of you dying on some battlefield. Get your father to have you assigned to guard the royal court, and then sell your commission and settle down here when I am gone. Raise crops and children. Do not pick too high for your wife, such a woman will not be content to have a retiring life in the countryside." As I had taken the previous step, I believed it unlikely that his honor would allow him to change his will. I only hoped that not picking too high might include picking a woman from a disgraced family.
My brother told me, "I see no need to alter our previous plans. Do you have no curiosity about what business I believe Darcy means to resolve?" He wriggled his eyebrows at me again.
I knew if he had determined I should know of it, there would be no avoiding it. I decided to reply "I do not see that Darcy's business should have any importance to me."
John shrugged and chuckled, "Do not say I never tried to do anything to help you, brother. Remember this moment and how you refused."
I shrugged. I would let John be amused by his game.
I did not see that waiting an additional two days would derail my plans. Still, I was restless those two days, wanting very much to reach Hertfordshire and see how Miss Bennet and her sisters fared. I certainly wanted to reach her before the Collinses came to take possession of Longbourn. But as I knew would be the case, John was
unwilling to depart until midday on Wednesday.
We arrived in London in time for dinner and I heard from Georgiana, who was my dinner companion, that Darcy had come to see her when he arrived back in London. I asked, "Is he still in London? I must say I am most surprised that you are not staying with him."
Georgiana replied "No, he is no longer in London, for he has some urgent business elsewhere." Then she lowered her voice and leaned closer to me. "I believe that Brother intends to marry if he can get the woman he loves to agree."
"What?" I exclaimed too loudly, flummoxed, confused, thinking quickly.
"Whatever is the matter, Richard?" My mother asked from the other side of me, at the foot of the table.
"Nothing, Mother."
"Then tell me more of your Easter trip," Mother instructed and for the next quarter of an hour I was obliged to tell her all the details of the trip, saying nothing of course about the Bennets.
Near the end of this exchange, John jumped in and told her about the Bennets' disgrace. Mother waived her hand. "Oh, everyone knows about that unfortunate family now. I received a letter from Lady Catherine about it only last week, and I dare say she must have written close to a dozen people and given every salacious detail, for I heard the same thing discussed in two parlors when I made calls yesterday and I dare say it will soon be bandied about in the gossip rags as a cautionary tale. That family was hardly known before, but is certainly known now."
John responded, "Darcy and Richard know one of the daughters."
My mother turned back to me, "Truly? Surely not the one to cause all the scandal. Tell me, could you tell from the start that she was immoral?"
I was then obliged to tell my mother about Miss Elizabeth Bennet and what I knew of her family. At the end of my account my mother declared "Oh, how I feel for that young woman. She will never make a good marriage now."
Georgiana, who had been silent during this exchange then spoke up. "I would not be too sure of that."
I was confused. Had Georgiana picked up on my interest as I gave my account?
"What do you mean?" My mother asked her.
Georgiana gave a delicate shrug, "It simply seems to me that a woman of such stellar qualities should be judged on her own merits and surely some noble man can overlook her sister's youthful follies."
My mother shook her head. "No, my dear. You may be excused for thinking in such a way, for you are still so young, but mark my words, that woman will end up a spinster or worse. It is unfair, but that is the way of the world. Guard your reputation well, though, and I am certain you will make a splendid marriage upon your come out."
The rest of the dinner conversation near me involved mother and Georgiana discussing when she should have her come out. I was happy enough to let their conversation go on without me, for I was thinking hard about who Darcy might wish to marry. I thought over our recent conversations but could not identify any woman he had praised or even discussed, save for relatives. I was determined to speak with Georgiana more about this when we might have some privacy, but feared I might have no opportunity as I planned to go see Bingley and some others after dinner to borrow some funds and set off for Hertfordshire at first light.
As it was eventually clear that my mother and Georgiana were at an impasse, I finally intervened to declare "Darcy and I are both decided, Georgiana must be at least eighteen-years-old first, but neither of us would repine if it did not take place until she was one and twenty." Thus ended the meal, and after refreshing myself, I took my horse and set off.
A/N: Sorry, not sorry to leave you on a cliffie. When I do this, I do it both to keep you hooked and to keep me eager to get back to writing the next bit (because I, too, want to find out what happens next).
