Chapter 17

The fine fall weather could not hold forever. A succession of storms rolled into Hertfordshire, leaving all grey and dreary in their wake. The lanes grew soggy and the Bennet sisters fretful with boredom from want of anything to do or anyone beyond their own family with whom to speak.

The first fine day in two weeks saw Elizabeth accompanying Lydia and Kitty into town. She could not blame them for their excitement, little as she liked its object. Her younger sisters would chase after officers, however, and refusing to accompany them would not have prevented them from going. In any case, Elizabeth felt badly in need of a walk.

They reached Meryton without incident. While Elizabeth bought some sheets of paper requested by Mr Bennet, Lydia and Kitty waited outside, giggling and looking for an opportunity to meet the soldiers as they passed. Elizabeth did not think that the men were falling for their designs in dropping their handkerchiefs so that the officers might retrieve them, but there was no talking her sisters out of it. Lydia had well and nearly stuffed her reticule full of handkerchiefs for the endeavour.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she watched the girls waving at the officers as they passed by. With a sigh, she entered the lending library to trade in her books and see if anything new was available. When she stood beside the window, the light streaming through the glass panes could aid her in reading the first few pages. She put it in her basket and looked up just in time to see a familiar face passing by. Mr Wickham did not notice her, but turned to his companion and brushed a kiss upon her cheek.

Elizabeth gasped in shock. Such license on the public street would have been shocking even in a betrothed couple, but Mr Wickham's companion was Miss Darcy! Upon receiving the kiss, she had flushed and looked shocked, but she had not protested or pulled away. Nor was Mrs Younge anywhere to be seen. What on earth was going on?

Something was wrong. That Mr Wickham might fall in love with Miss Darcy would be surprising, but that he would act with such license, and when she was away from the protection of her guardian, was utterly unacceptable. Without even waiting to exchange her books or speak to the shop's proprietor, Elizabeth left the building. She followed the pair at a discrete distance and saw them halt at an apple seller. Mr Wickham picked five of the choicest fruits and placed them in a basket slung over his arm. He leaned close to whisper in Miss Darcy's ear, heightening Elizabeth's sense of foreboding. He was acting too familiarly — much too familiarly, to such a shy, innocent young girl.

Elizabeth had watched them dance two sets together at the assembly. That suggested that Mr Wickham was quite interested in Miss Darcy, but there was nothing of real concern in it. His behaviour now was quite different. Elizabeth could not imagine any explanation for it that would do credit to his honour and his heart. And where was Mrs Younge? It was strange indeed that she was allowing her young charge to be so alone and unprotected.

Just then, Miss Darcy glanced towards her, looking a little startled when their eyes met. Elizabeth smiled and made a formal bow.

Elizabeth had not expected a smile in return, only the nod of acknowledgement that was the least return Miss Darcy could make to her bow in all politeness. She soon found she was mistaken — matters were far worse even than she had guessed. Miss Darcy only frowned, raised her chin, and looked away.

Miss Darcy has cut me! Elizabeth's heart sank. That the friendship was sundered did not admit of a doubt, but she had not imagined that Miss Darcy would go so far as to give her a formal gesture of contempt, refusing even to acknowledge the acquaintance. Elizabeth had hoped leaving her be for a while would make the supposed betrayal fade, would give Georgiana time to remember all the conversations and shared laughter that could not have been faked. Evidently, she had been too optimistic. Likely, Mrs Younge had continued to poison Miss Darcy's mind against her.

"Come, Mr Wickham. Let us return home, where the streets are not so crowded," Miss Darcy said.

"I would much rather have you to myself anyway, my dear Miss Darcy." Mr Wickham said. He did not even look up to see Elizabeth standing a few paces off. "I am growing jealous at all the attention your frock is attracting from the other men, not that I blame them."

Elizabeth's brows rose in surprise. His words had a tone she did not care for at all. There was an insinuating sound to them, hinting at things he should not have dared to mention before Miss Darcy. As the two walked off, Mrs Younge joined them after only a few paces. She must know, then, how familiarly Mr Wickham was speaking to her charge, must even be facilitating their time together, for it certainly was not a surprise that the two had been walking alone. The woman was not doing her duty as a chaperone, that much was clear. What on earth did Mrs Younge mean by it?

Worry for Miss Darcy continued to assault her as she went in search of Lydia and Kitty. Elizabeth no longer wished to be in town. Her heart was crying at Miss Darcy's refusal to even acknowledge her. She knew she could tell no one, especially not Lydia and Kitty. They would wag their tongues and before she knew it, all of Meryton would turn on Miss Darcy once again. That was the last thing she wanted.

Something told Elizabeth that Miss Darcy was in trouble enough already.

∞∞∞

Darcy breathed deeply of the fresh scent of autumn, a mixture of fallen leaves, damp earth, and the promise of rain. He pulled his horse to a halt, waiting for his cousin to catch up with him. Colonel Fitzwilliam was Georgiana's other guardian and a good friend to them both. Darcy did not know how he could have managed if the full responsibility for his sister lay on his shoulders alone.

Hyde Park was so beautiful this time of year. With the trees changing into their regalia of burnt orange and golden amber, he could have sat and watched the wind ripple through their branches for hours. The sun was shining through the clouds at regular intervals, chasing away the chill with its warmth.

He did not really mind the cold. The brisk air helped clear his mind of all the worries and trials he had had to deal with. Napoleon's advance was not making things easy for anyone's business interests in England. He could only hope the scoundrel would be brought to heel soon.

"You look like you are surveying a kingdom," Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he rode up beside him. He pulled the reins hard, making his stallion rear ever so slightly. He was a spirited animal and a good match for his cousin's daring nature.

"Do I?" Darcy asked. "I did not mean to be."

"You would make an excellent king," Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked. "You have the seriousness for it."

"Cease your jesting." Darcy waved him off. They continued on with their ride, walking at a leisurely pace around the pond. The birds were not in the vicinity anymore, having flown south for the cold months. Indeed, there was hardly a soul in the park that day, thanks to the threatening rain.

"I have had a letter from our aunt this morning. She has invited me to her townhouse for supper in a week, and informs me you have had an invitation as well." Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his brows. "Or will you still be in London then?"

"I expect so, yes," Darcy replied. It would not do for him to refuse the invitation, which was more like a summons, in reality. People did not often cross Lady Catherine De Bourgh. They would then have to brave her wrath for ignoring her orders, and then all of England would hear of it. His aunt was not one to be trifled with. Darcy was still tempted to refuse the invitation. His aunt had voiced her opinions on how Georgiana ought to be raised, not to mention how Darcy himself ought to marry, much too decidedly of late. But still…

"I do not suppose I can deny her," Darcy said at last. "Better to go, and pay off my familial duty now, rather than leave it for another time. She is our aunt, after all."

"Good, then I shall accept as well." He smiled his usual jovial smile. "I half-expected you to rush off to Pemberley at any moment."

"Hmm, yes," Darcy replied distractedly. He was surprised at himself. The last few weeks since his arrival in London did not have him longing for Derbyshire, but Hertfordshire. And it was not the countryside that drew his thoughts, but the memory of a pair of dark eyes.

I must forget her. I will forget her. Darcy, you fool, it was never real.

"I am sure our aunt will do her best to coax you into making your bid for Lady Anne's hand while we are there. Are you ready to take on the last adventure set aside for you? That of matrimonial bliss?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam had always been one to indulge his sense of humour. Normally, Darcy enjoyed his cousin's wit, even when it came at his own expense. But at that moment, he wished his cousin would be more serious.

"I have no intention of going through with Aunt Catherine's plans," Darcy replied, "and I never have."

Fitzwilliam shrugged. "You are not getting any younger, old chap."

Darcy chuckled in disbelief. "You are only a twelve-month younger than I!"

"Yes, I am not getting any younger, either. It is time we both found pretty wives to aid us in passing on our names." His laughter echoed through the park. After a few moments, he turned serious. "Pemberley deserves to be alive with children's laughter again."

Darcy shook his head. He agreed with his cousin. He longed to have an heir, even a dozen children running about, as his mother had wished. However, he would not be marrying his cousin. Poor Ann. Aunt Catherine's daughter was an intelligent woman, but her frail health had prevented her from attaining the accomplishments he had always casually considered a requirement for any woman he would marry. More importantly, there simply was not that connection between them that Darcy wished to find in his future wife. He and Ann had always understood each other well, not least in their mutual determination not to wed. But the thought of speaking words of love to Ann, of touching his lips to hers, was simply bizarre.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet, on the other hand —

No, he should not think of her. Darcy cleared his throat, looking guilty as they continued their ride. Colonel Fitzwilliam shot him a sideways look. "Will you retrieve Georgiana for the visit? I am sure our aunt would like to look her over before she makes her debut in London society."

Darcy barely heard his cousin. He glanced over at him with a questioning look, then finally caught up with what he had been trying to ask. "Georgiana? Oh, no. She will remain in Meryton for the winter. I suppose I shall make my way there after the supper party with our aunt." He had begun to worry over her. It had been nearly ten days since Darcy had arrived in London, and still he had not received an answer to his letter. She had begged him to write to her and let her know he had arrived safely, and he had done so without delay. It was most unlike Georgiana to be so tardy in sending a response.

As likely as was not, she was too busy meeting new acquaintances and playing the pianoforte. Perhaps it would be best to check on her to see how things were progressing. But he knew the real reason he wanted to return to Meryton, and it was not for the beautiful countryside. It was not even concern over Georgiana, or at least, not entirely. He could not seem to stop thinking about Elizabeth Bennet. What if he had been wrong — no, that was impossible. Mrs Younge had not thought there was any doubt about what she had overheard. It was foolish of him to think of it. Darcy simply did not like the way things had ended. He found himself wishing to make amends. Though his indignation was justified, the harshness with which he had expressed it was not.

"My, you are distracted today, are you not?" Colonel Fitzwilliam said. He chuckled. "What has you so entangled in dreamland?"

Darcy had no intention of talking over the whole humiliating episode with his cousin. He felt a stab of guilt at the mere remembrance of how he had treated Elizabeth. He had let his anger get the better of him. And had he truly done the right thing in forbidding any continuation of the friendship between Georgiana and Elizabeth? If she truly felt nothing for his sister and wanted only to use her, there was no alternative. But if she had sincerely been Georgiana's friend and had only been led a little astray by her mother into mercenary thinking, matters would be quite different. That would be an error, to be sure, but a forgivable one.

"Suffice to say, I wounded someone and have not been able to see my way clear of it."

"Well, was it justified or not?" Colonel Fitzwilliam pulled up his horse and Darcy did the same.

Looking out over the pond and the gathering clouds above them, he mused how very like the dark waters his heart felt. He could not see clearly what the right answer was. "That is the problem, my friend. I do not know. It was in the service of my sister, but I still have not been able to bring myself to a place of peace about it."

Colonel Fitzwilliam thought for a moment. "Well, with no more details, I would say that you should go to that person, whoever they may be, and speak to them again. Perhaps you will get a clearer picture of their intentions since you are further removed from the incident now."

Darcy nodded, but said nothing. After a long while, Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped him on the shoulder in a brotherly show of affection. "You will do the right thing. You always do," he said encouragingly.

That evening, Darcy sat staring into the fire. He had had his supper alone and had drunk a glass of port. The warmth of the fire, the good food, even the mellow wine seemed to lack its usual savour. Elizabeth had plagued his thoughts all afternoon. There seemed to be nothing he could do to get her out of his mind. She was like an apparition, constant and not unpleasant company, if only he forgot about her underhandedness. He ought to know better. If what Mrs Younge told him was true, she was only a fortune-hunting young woman out to get his money.

If he could believe her. For some reason, whenever Darcy thought back on the situation that had brought Georgiana's friendship with Elizabeth to a close, he felt an odd sense that he was missing something. If Elizabeth was an actress, she was a good one indeed. He had always prided himself on being such an excellent judge of character. How had his instincts steered him so wrong this time?

Darcy stood with a grunt and began to pace. The rain that threatened that afternoon had arrived with a fury. He listened to the rain hitting against the townhouse roof. It had a lonely sound. How he wished Georgiana had come. She would have enjoyed London, if even for a few days. What would he do when she found a husband and left him for good? Not that she would not be welcome at her childhood home whenever she had occasion to come and see him. But now that he thought of it more and more, he did not wish to remain alone. If he were to marry as well, he need not be alone ever again.

Elizabeth would have done well at Pemberley. She would have quickly won over his housekeeper, would have delighted in the many paths that led through the woods. It was all too easy to picture her smiling at him as they walked, arm in arm.

How ridiculous! He chided himself for allowing his thoughts to take such an inappropriate turn. Elizabeth had set out to gain control of his heart and his fortune, and he would not allow her to triumph by stealing into his thoughts at every hour of the day.

Darcy raked a hand through his hair, feeling utterly miserable. No. He must forget the beguiling Elizabeth Bennet at all costs.