A/N: More of our tale.
Darcy's Struggle
Chapter 16: Handsomeness and Habits
Honor and shame is in talk...
— Ecclesiasticus
Darcy apologized to the stablehand for the quick return of his horse. He stood and waited as Richard and Georgiana left the carriage. Mrs. Hurst came out of Netherfield's front doors and stood on the top of the steps with an open umbrella, beckoning them inside, out of the rain.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam! Miss Darcy! What a wonderful surprise!"
As the three dashed to the top of the stairs, Georgiana looked at Mrs. Hurst and greeted her, but then glanced at Darcy, raising one eyebrow slightly in question.
Georgiana had obviously expected to be greeted by, hosted by, Miss Bingley. But Mrs. Hurst offered the greeting and Miss Bingley was absent. Conspicuously. Given her typical noxious devotion to Georgiana, it was unimaginable that she would miss Georgiana's arrival, that Mrs. Hurst would not have told Miss Bingley if she had not been a witness to the carriage. But there was also Mrs. Hurst's black eye, now yellow-green after a few days of healing.
Darcy shook his head subtly, warning Georgiana not to ask. Richard, despite himself greeting Mrs. Hurst warmly, and with a courtly bow, still noted the sibling exchange, the black eye.
Once inside, Georgiana explained. "We came to celebrate my brother's remarkable and unanticipated news and to meet my sister-to-be, Miss Elizabeth. We're going to see her straight away."
Georgiana matched Richard's warmth. That surprised Darcy, as had her eager embrace earlier — the last time he had seen her, she had still lingered, downcast and self-reproachful, in darkling memories of Ramsgate, and she had taken refuge in diffidence much as Darcy took refuge in loftiness.
As much as Darcy loved his parents, he realized, as he stood there, dripping rainwater, watching Georgiana drip too, that his parents had mismanaged both his and his sister's educations.
And Wickham's.
A will to educate had been mistaken for the performance.
Darcy pushed that thought from his mind to face a present, more pressing issue.
What to do about Wickham? Georgiana was exposed to the man now, both of them in Hertfordshire, in Meryton.
He needed to talk to Richard. But at least Darcy had talked to Colonel Forster, at least Elizabeth had talked to Mr. Bennet.
As Mrs. Hurst showed Richard and Georgiana upstairs so that they could change, Darcy quickly went to the library and penned two brief notes. One to Elizabeth, alerting her of Richard and Georgiana's arrival and the plan to visit Longbourn, and the other to Sir William Lucas, asking if the new guests at Netherfield might attend the engagement party that evening. He walked to a window, pleased to see that the rain had slacked, misty, and he summoned a servant and sent him with the notes.
He climbed the stairs and met Mrs. Hurst coming down; she told him into which rooms she had put Richard and Georgiana.
Darcy knocked at Richard's door and received a hearty "Enter!"
He did and found Richard had already changed. Darcy envied Richard in small ways, particularly his readiness, and quickness, the product of a soldier's life. The lack of formality. It showed not only in his ability to doff and don clothes but also in his comfort in circumstances high and low, his adaptability. He was a soldier, dutiful, a man of rectitude, but even Wickham would not claim Richard had a stick up his bum.
Richard carried his territory with him; he belonged everywhere.
Darcy, by contrast, was only comfortable in a few places, around a few people. But, luckily, one of them was Richard. They jostled each other, sometimes hard, but they were as close as brothers.
Richard smirked at Darcy. "So it finally happened, a woman mounted up to that tiny window at the top of that tall, tall tower, and found you there, entangled in yourself, waiting to be rescued."
Darcy could not help it — he barked a loud laugh. Richard! "Am I the damsel in distress?"
"I fear it has long been so. You have been under a curse. 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge.'"
The quotation made Darcy think of her parents again, and their mismanagement of their children's education.
"Why is everyone quoting scripture to me lately? Bingley's been doing it!"
"Eh? Returning the favor. — And by the way, where is your hypochondriac, lovesick friend?"
"Genuinely lovesick this time, I judge. He was engaged on Friday, to the sister, Jane Bennet, of my betrothed. But you've missed him today. He must have passed you on the road; he's gone to London to prepare for the wedding — and to attend to errands."
"And where is his sister, that is, his other sister, the one who intends to give you an heir and a spare before she begins to conduct personal virility tests with London's fashionable male population."
"Richard! She is, well, she is insincere — but that?" Darcy was never quite prepared for Richard's frankness, although he knew to expect it.
"Darcy, I do admire you, but you are sometimes an imbecile. That woman does not want you, she wants Pemberley. But she does have wants, other wants, itches, that she's left unattended, and she will eventually scratch them — on someone."
"Lord, Richard." Darcy shook his head. "Perhaps it is so. But she is gone to London with Charles, — except she is gone to stay. When she heard of my engagement, she destroyed her room and punched Mrs. Hurst."
"You don't say? Punched her? That explains the eye. At last, the true Caroline Bingley reveals herself."
"Richard, she did more than that, more than attack glass and his sister's gaze. Sit for a minute and I will tell you." Darcy took a deep breath. "Wickham is in Meryton. He's a lieutenant in the militia here."
Richard sat down but started to bound back up "Georgie!"
Darcy extended a hand to keep him seated. "I'm delighted by your surprise visit, Richard, but it does create problems, bringing my sister along. — Let me tell you what I've done."
Richard tilted his head up. "Done? You've done something? You haven't just stood by and waited to clean up Wickham's mess?" Richard's frustration with Darcy's inaction against Wickham had for years been a friction between them. "What have you done?"
"I went to the barracks and spoke to Colonel Forster, the commander. I told him of Wickham's history, omitting Ramsgate, of course. He is watching Wickham and passing along cautions — to the other officers and the merchants."
"Anything else?"
"I warned Elizabeth and she warned her father. I expect Mr. Bennet to warn other fathers of daughters."
"Speaking of, does Wickham know about Miss Elizabeth? Your engagement?"
One thing Miss Bingley likely wrote to Wickham in one of her notes then occurred to Darcy.
"I don't know. The banns were read for the first time Sunday," Darcy offered, "but — unsurprisingly — Wickham was not present."
Richard's lip curled in murderous irony. "Despite his great love for the church?"
"Indeed. But I know that Miss Bingley wrote two notes to Wickham. I don't know the contents of either but it seems likely that news of my engagement was in one. So we should assume he knows, has known for a few days."
"Just a matter of time until that Bingley woman snapped. For years she lived as a spy in your life, pretending to be something she was not, to feelings and thoughts she did not have, tastes she did not share. All to capture Pemberley!"
Darcy was struck by that but did not comment; Richard changed the subject.
"Does Wickham know Miss Elizabeth?"
"Yes, not well, but he showed…interest in her briefly. I don't know if that stopped because of her (she saw through him rather quickly), or me, or if it stopped because of another young woman in town, a Miss King, a recent heiress with ten thousand pounds to whom he has very lately been devoted."
Shaking his head, Richard snorted a disgusted laugh. "Blood and damnation! Some men are all about the bosom, some about the bum, but George Wickham, good old George, never takes his lustful eyes off the curve of the dowry."
"He wrote to me, Richard, warning me not to do anything against him here," Darcy said with a quiet intensity.
"Before — or after — you did what you did?"
"Before. But I burned the letter. The vile things he said, vile things he claimed that he did to Georgiana…" Darcy dropped his head, grinding his teeth.
Richard stood and gripped Darcy's shoulder tightly for a second. "Mrs. Annesley says she has bled, Darcy, and she is well. At least we know that whatever he did, it did not have those results."
"Has Georgiana told Mrs. Annesley any more of the…details of what happened in Ramsgate?"
"No, but she is doing much better, as you just saw. Demanding details is not advisable. The worst did not happen. No child, no disease. We ought to be happy about that — and let Georgie decide to share other details if she chooses. Wickham's version of events was formed to create nightmares. He always acts to gall you."
Darcy nodded grimly.
"And good for you, Darcy, acting against him even after that letter. Battling like an old campaigner, claiming the high ground instead of conceding it to that low bully. In the end, he is nothing more than a bastard with a pretty face." Richard turned and admired himself in the looking glass standing against the wall, adjusting his coat "We should go; I am ready to meet your bride-to-be, and to ensure she understands that she is not getting the pick of the litter."
"No doubt she will pity you for that disfiguring head injury you call a face."
"Handsome is as handsome does, Darcy."
"Then follow my lead, Richard."
The carriage ride to Netherfield was one of high spirits, despite the lingering mist. Georgiana was pleased even by the wet, autumnal beauty of Hertfordshire, and eager, if nervous, about meeting Elizabeth. She was also visibly pleased that the relationship between Darcy and Richard had reverted to normal. Although she was never a participant in their banter, she was always an amused observer.
Darcy could feel the emotional pall he had been under as it lifted. It had been lifting before his surprise visitors, but their visit hastened it. Bingley had told him to breathe — and Darcy was now breathing.
I underestimated him and I need to tell him so. Bingley has his mind in his heart, not his heart in his mind. I may be cleverer, perhaps, but his candor makes his vision clearer.
Elizabeth and Miss Bennet were waiting for them and met their carriage, the sisters walking out, umbrellas open, as the carriage pulled to a stop. Dark hair, light hair. Richard exited the carriage first and executed a perfect, low bow. Darcy stepped out and helped Georgiana step down. As she curtsied primly, he introduced everyone.
The carriage was sent back to Netherfield. The Hursts would return with it to help convey everyone to Lucas Lodge for the engagement party.
Elizabeth immediately took Georgiana under her umbrella and invited her inside. Georgiana took a quick, searching look at Elizabeth then stole a glance at Darcy, nodding her understanding and approval. Elizabeth gave Darcy a wide smile. He followed them — and Richard and Miss Bennet came behind, chatting already about Bingley, and Richard's fondness for him.
The rain, despite the sudden downpour at the beginning, and its effect on Richard's boots, had not been sufficient to turn the earth to mud. But the sky was still dark and low — it felt like dusk, not midafternoon. The interior lights of Longbourn were glowing, and warm, and Darcy followed the two people most precious to him in the world inside, into the ample candlelight.
He would never have imagined beginning to feel at home there — but he was.
Mrs. Bennet was waiting inside, and tea things were already in evidence. "Mr. Darcy, who have you brought to us?" Darcy knew that she knew; they must have gotten his note, but it was her way of asking for an introduction, which he gave.
"Miss Darcy," Mrs. Bennet enthused, "so much loveliness. I see the resemblance to your brother, although you make a better first impression."
Darcy saw Elizabeth wince, just a little.
"And Colonel Fitzwilliam, very good to have you here. My daughters and I have a strong preference for soldiers. We've been delighted to have the militia in Meryton."
At that moment, as if obeying stage directions, the younger Bennet sisters came in. The room was suddenly full of curtsies and giggles and introductions, and then of rapturous exclamations at Georgiana's pelisse and her dress. Questions about sleeves and lace.
Richard glanced at Darcy with mock horror — a loud, colorful skirmish he did not understand. Darcy sat down on the couch next to Elizabeth. She watched him watch the scene, smiling, he realized, at his smiling gratification. "She's so lovely, Fitzwilliam. And so poised."
"She is," he agreed, admiring his sister, "but some of the poise is diffidence, I fear. Still, all things considered, she has come so far. Her life has been marked with loss, and she has had the misfortune of being raised during her most trying years by Colonel Fitzwilliam and myself, and, even together, we have proven unequal to the task. Luckily, she is proving equal to it herself. And now she will have a most wonderful sister."
Seeing Georgiana so engaged, he turned a bit on the couch to see Elizabeth better. She had colored prettily at his compliment.
His desire to hold her made his whole body ache.
Richard was seated in an armchair, still talking with attention to Miss Bennet, but he was also monitoring Darcy's conversation with Elizabeth. At one point, as Elizabeth and Miss Bennet looked to Georgiana and their sisters and away from Darcy, Richard nodded with decisive approval.
Mrs. Bennet managed to get the girls seated and she served tea. Georgiana was clearly overwhelmed by Lydia and Kitty, but she withstood them reasonably well and even seemed to catch some of their high spirits.
"Where do you live in town?" Lydia asked Georgiana.
"At Darcy House."
"And do you attend many balls and dances and suchlike?"
"No, I am not out," Georgiana said.
Lydia speared Darcy with a glare then turned back to Georgiana. "Not out? Why not?"
Elizabeth intervened. "Lydia, being out in the country, in Meryton, is far less demanding than being out in London. A difference of kind, not merely degree. Here, we have at most four-and-twenty families, all friends really, or neighbors, to socialize with," Elizabeth's lip quirked up and her eyes met his for the briefest moment, and Darcy had to keep himself from laughing, "but there, for the Darcys, the number must be many, many times that, and the events so much larger and grander, not peopled only by friends and neighbors. The demands and the consequences of being out are on another scale entirely. Miss Darcy has plenty of time yet, and she will no doubt be much sought after when she does come out."
Georgiana smiled and dropped her head.
"I suppose," Lydia responded with little charity, "but it still seems miserly to curtail Miss Darcy's pleasures."
Georgiana had caught Lydia's glare at her brother but her delayed response was gentle. "My brother is generosity itself, Miss Lydia, and would never suspend any pleasure of mine that he deemed appropriate." She blushed deeply. Darcy saw Elizabeth note it.
The conversation continued around them, but Darcy was increasingly unable to attend to anyone but Elizabeth. His conversation with Miss Lucas came back to him, her comment about Elizabeth and the assembly — taken with you. And her comment about Elizabeth being terrified of him.
The second comment he still found as oracular as when Miss Lucas shared it with him, but the first renewed his shame for what he had said. Elizabeth's resentment of him for it had likely been deeper than he realized, and he wanted nothing more than again to apologize for those hurtful words. They had come to seem to him an epigraph on their romance (Can I call it that, knowing what she does not feel?), thematizing it incorrectly. Richard had mentioned a curse: Darcy had cursed himself. I have eaten sour grapes and Elizabeth's teeth have been set on edge.
He leaned toward her and spoke in a whisper. "Elizabeth, might we step into the hallway there, outside your father's library? Only for a moment?"
She looked at him with her dark eyes, a question in them, and then she nodded. The others were involved in tea and conversation. She stood and left the room and he followed a moment later. She was standing against the hallway wall when he came through the door, a door he was careful to leave slightly open. He faced her, eyes only for her.
"What is it, Fitzwilliam?"
He wanted to tell her how much he loved her and kiss her out of the ache that consumed him, but he did not. "I need to apologize to you again for what I said at the assembly. I regret those words more daily."
She reached out and took his hand, slight exasperation in her tone. "You have apologized and I have accepted your apology. Truly. I need only look at you when you look at me to know those words are in the past. A story we can tell to amuse our children. We should only remember the past as it gives us pleasure. Please otherwise forget those words; I have."
He heard her, and her mention of their children forced him to pause, his heart racing, but then he pressed on. "My parents, Elizabeth, made mistakes in raising me. Mismanaged my education. I was taught the right principles, but taught them in the wrong way." Darcy paused again, collecting his thoughts. "We are, man and woman, rational animals — but reason cannot withstand animality without the aid of spirit, of rightly habituated feelings. My parents raised me and to some extent Georgiana, as if the abstract rational grasp of a principle would guarantee its application. But any principle that has thoroughly soaked into a person becomes rather a concrete habit of feeling. Only that principle has been truly learned. My parents did not rightly habituate our feelings because theirs, I fear, were not rightly habituated."
Darcy shook his head in annoyance at himself, "I'm sorry, I sound like one of my Cambridge tutorials. What I mean — what I mean is my parents taught me to feel or feel strongly only in certain circumstances, among certain people, people of a certain station. My duties only existed to those of that station; only for them were my feelings to be engaged.
"Those above me, those below me, could be safely ignored, discounted, left unfelt for. As if only my social peers were my human equals. They taught me to be a respecter of persons.
"My words at the assembly were sheer animal stupidity, unchecked by proper feeling. My sentiments were unstable. It matters little what I meant; I knew what I said but did not stop the saying of it. That I saddened you is unbearable."
He met her eyes with all that was inside him. "I know better now, Elizabeth, and I — I feel better now, if you understand me, because of you. I was looking for you hopelessly for years but with no sense of what finding you would mean, what a revolution you would work in my life. You have saved me. An answered prayer." Darcy thought of Richard's comment — that he was entangled in himself in a tall tower, a damsel in distress."Thank God for you!"
Elizabeth glanced up and down the hallway then put her arms around his neck and kissed him once, wetly and languidly. A promise of more was in that kiss and in the warm, gentle, delighted laugh that was its immediate sequel.
She smiled at him and her eyes shone with that peculiar brightness he adored, that uncreated light that seemed internal, integral to her being, the very life in and of her, and she touched his jaw softly with one finger before she returned to the room, to the conversation there.
Darcy started after her but then heard a sound, a slight creak. He turned his head to see Mr. Bennet, one half of his face visible through a crack in his library door.
His half-gaze met Darcy's full gaze, and after a prolonged moment, he pushed his glasses up his nose and closed the door.
The Hursts returned with the carriage, and, sitting bodkin, Miss Bennet and the three younger Bennet sisters rode to Lucas Lodge with them.
Darcy, Elizabeth, Richard, and Georgiana rode with Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet declined to attend, claiming a headache, but Darcy was skeptical about the complaint, wondering what Mr. Bennet might have seen and heard in the hallway. He almost certainly saw the kiss — saw that it was passionate and not companionate. If he had heard, what did he make of my second apology?
Darcy thought about the evening to come. He was curious to see Elizabeth and Miss Lucas together. He hoped better to understand the woman he loved.
Mrs. Bennet took it upon herself to explain the engagement party to Richard and Georgiana, although her explanation was breathless and bemusing.
"You see, the husband-to-be, Mr. Collins, Rector of Hunsford, — he's the man to whom Longbourn is entailed — he asked Lizzy to marry him and then he turned around, seemingly only hours later, and asked Charlotte Lucas. What worthy heart reorients so fast? Lizzy turned him down, you know, because she, the sly thing she is, — well, Longbourn is no Pemberley — and she saw taller fish on the horizon."
Mrs. Bennet sat back in silent satisfaction with her mixed metaphor.
Georgiana's eyes widened. Richard turned to the window and laughed silently. Elizabeth studied the carriage floor.
A/N: Next time, the engagement party. Here comes everybody!