Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

"The African savannah?" Fitzwilliam asked, but Darcy would not gratify his curiosity. He only shrugged; he much preferred to lose himself in recollections of the scant time he had spent talking to Elizabeth and the brief but glorious moments spent touching her, helping her with her small problem.

Thinking of that reminded him of another problem that plagued her—her young sister being permitted to go to Brighton with the regiment. She had mentioned it to him, and he had overheard her speak of it to Fitzwilliam; he had also heard bits of it himself in various conversations.

Mr Bennet was the picture of a gentleman at ease at the end of the long table, a glass of port in front of him as he chatted with Mr Simpson and Sir William Lucas. Beholding them, Darcy felt a pang of guilt. Yes, he had saved the Darcy name, but what of these other men, with their daughters, who had no idea what George Wickham was? Everything they allowed for Wickham—to dine in their homes, to dance with their daughters, to be received by their wives—was because Darcy had kept the man's true nature hidden from them.

In the end, the confession was almost fated, such was the arrangement. Mr Bennet's companions left him while he remained seated, obviously not eager to return to the ladies.

Darcy rose with his cousin, then said, "I shall be a minute," and gestured to him to go on.

Elizabeth's father seemed surprised when Darcy asked whether he might join him, but he nodded and offered the port from the decanter that rested by him. "Nights at the Simpsons' run long. Best to keep your glass full." He poured them both a generous glass, then took a sip and regarded Darcy curiously, no doubt wondering at his sudden wish to speak to him.

"I understand," Darcy said, after a sip from his own glass, "that Miss Lydia will be off to Brighton after the wedding."

"She will," Mr Bennet agreed with a nod. "Jane will be at Netherfield, Elizabeth intends to travel with her aunt and uncle, and Lydia will go to Brighton. If I can think of any place to send the other two, I surely shall. A summer of peace sounds just the thing after all this wedding business!"

A laugh was expected and duly given. Darcy then cleared his throat and said, more seriously, "Loath as I am to disturb your plans, there is something I wish to acquaint you with before she goes," he began slowly. "As you know, I have a younger sister, and last year when she was fifteen, I was prevailed upon to allow her to go to the seaside with her friends and…and it had near-disastrous consequences that I have kept…quiet…for the sake of my name. Alas, I am just now recognising that silence and secrecy exposes other young girls to the same danger."

"What danger do you mean?" Mr Bennet asked.

Mr Bennet received the information about George Wickham as well as Darcy could have hoped. He could only pray the gentleman would act in the best interests of his daughter.

He could not be surprised to see that Fitzwilliam had attached himself to Elizabeth in his absence. Saye was also in the small knot of people with her, as was Miss Bingley, who was taking on a great deal of importance from having such intimacy with a viscount. Darcy considered pushing himself into the group, but it would not be easily done. He would need to drag a chair to where they all sat, and it would be awkward, to say the least.

You want to show her you attended to her reproofs , he reminded himself. Start by being kind to her neighbours. How well he recalled her words the night at Rosings when he had so foolishly imagined her to be flirting with him, refusing to hear the censure in her words!

"Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?"

"I can answer your question," Fitzwilliam had said , "without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble."

Well, he would now. He would ‘give himself the trouble' for her. Looking about the room he espied a young gentleman standing alone near the mantel. There was something familiar in his air, or perhaps it was his looks, that seemed genial and intelligent, so Darcy decided to go over and speak to him.

"How do you do?" Darcy said as he arrived next to him. He introduced himself, worrying briefly whether he presumed too much to imagine himself socially superior to the fellow. Then again, were he a man of consequence, I would likely know him already.

The young man informed him that he was Mr Philips, ‘the cousin of the bride' and recently down from Oxford. Darcy extended his hand, and they shook. "Will you study the law? I believe your father is a solicitor?"

Philips grimaced. "That he is, and my grandfather before him. He and my mother would enjoy nothing more than if I did that, though Meryton and its businesses can scarce support one solicitor, much less two. In truth, I have not much affinity for the law."

"I have often envied those who have the liberty to consider their own preference in such things." The boy looked at him curiously, so Darcy continued, "As the heir to an estate—which is an honour and privilege, of course—my future has been pre-ordained. Do not think me ungrateful, I beg you, but I have before wondered how it might be to consult my own talents and preferences."

"My father has little for me to inherit, but his opinions are no less strong for it," Philips replied with an amiable grin.

"What would you do, were you left to your own wishes?"

"A few fellows and I at university set ourselves up with a small business of our own. It was slow going at first, particularly for those of us with little to our names, but we have built up enough interest now that we might make a go of it."

"A shop?"

Philips shook his head. "More of an investment…group. A partnership, so to speak, among many and varied partners."

"I am not sure I follow you."

"See, it works like this: many times one sees an investment that is perhaps less assured than another might be—but one which yields a higher possible return."

"Many a fortune has been lost on just such ventures," Darcy observed.

"Just so. What my friends and I began to do was put together groups of people, those who might be tempted into higher risk sorts of ventures. Then each of us put a smaller amount in. Then we split the profits—or losses, if it comes to that—between us all. So no one loses a great deal, no matter what happens."

"But no one gains as much either."

"Unless one measures the gains against another, less profitable, investment. If you were to invest fifty pounds in something secure, knowing you would earn sixty in return, that would be excellent. However, if you could enter one of these schemes with your same fifty pounds and return one hundred—even if it were only part of five hundred, for example—you would still have gained." Philips smiled. "But I do not explain it nearly as well as my partner Millard does. He's the one who goes about explaining the opportunity to people, gathers up investors."

A footman came by just then with some coffee. Darcy took one almost absently, his thoughts absorbed by the scheme Philips described. "Who else do you have in it?"

"There is Beaumont—he specialises in finding the investment opportunities. Has a good nose for them too. Langley is our accountant. Just loves to make sure all the farthings are accounted for."

"And what is your part in all this?"

"I help Beaumont seek out opportunities and I suppose you could say I weigh those opportunities," Philips told him. "We do not pursue just anything . Our specialty is finding opportunities that appear risky but are perhaps less so upon closer examination."

"How so?"

"There is risk, and then there is… I suppose you could say less risky risk." The younger man chuckled. "Pure luck is much less a factor than many people suppose it is. For most things, one can reasonably calculate the probability of success. Take a ship, for example. You have any number of factors that go into the success of the voyage—the experience of the captain, the likelihood of bad weather, the activity of pirates, the likelihood of smuggling, to name but a few. What I have found is that if one can gather about twenty-five variables on any given investment and calculate the odds of each variable, you arrive at a model for success that is robust."

"Twenty-five variables!" Darcy exclaimed. "A tedious business, is it not?"

"I find a strange enjoyment in it," Philips replied. "Some amuse themselves with a book. I find it excessively pleasant to sit down to a page of calculations."

"And in return for all the work, you likely take a percentage?"

"Twelve percent," Philips said with a nod. "Divided among the four of us."

"Not unreasonable. Can you make a profession of it?"

"I think we can. We have all built up a tidy sum over the years at university."

"If I could…" Darcy stopped to reflect. It would not do to be too forward here, but he liked what the fellow had to say. A small investment, a trial of sorts, could not be untoward? "I may be interested in what you do. Will you be setting up in London? Perhaps we might meet?"

"Oh no. No, I could not," Philips demurred. "I am honoured, sir, truly, but I would not wish to capitalise on the connexions of my cousin and her bridegroom. Forgive me if I spoke out of turn."

Darcy liked him even more for saying so. "I perceived nothing in your manner that seemed reaching. I asked you about it, if you recall. In any case, no promises, just a meeting. Would that do?"

Philips flushed a deep crimson and looked down. "I cannot tell you how much that means to me. I shall send my card to you when we are both in town, and if you should be inclined to take the meeting, I would be most grateful to you. If not, if upon further reflection you wish to refuse, then that is just as well."

"Not at all," Darcy replied firmly. "In fact, I insist upon it."

"And what does Mr Darcy insist upon?" Elizabeth had come to them from the side, unseen by Darcy. His heart leapt at the sound of her voice.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head over, Lizzy," said Philips with a smirk. She replied by pinching him on the arm and scowling prettily.

It was then that Darcy perceived the source of familiarity in Philips's looks. His eyes, indeed, the entire shape of his countenance, were the more masculine version of Elizabeth's. He mentally shook his head, thinking it took no great feat of discernment there. They were, after all, cousins.

"Your mother is asking for you," Elizabeth informed her cousin. With a little frown of sympathy, she added, "I believe she is attempting to arrange lodgings for you with Mr Morris."

"Hey-ho! I had better get over there and stop her!" Philips turned and bowed to Darcy. "Thank you, sir, for your patient ear in hearing me rattle away."

"No, no, think nothing of that," Darcy said. "My pleasure entirely."

Philips left, but to Darcy's delight, Elizabeth did not follow him. She looked up at him, biting her lip.

"I hope my cousin was not importuning you in any way. He is very enthusiastic about his business prospects."

"I approached him," Darcy reassured her. "I find it a very interesting idea, in truth."

Elizabeth smiled, looking relieved. "I suppose it is. He has managed to amass a fortune of, oh, I think it must be two or three thousand by now, so?—"

"Two or three thousand pounds?" Darcy exclaimed. "From…nothing?"

"I am not entirely certain where he began, but knowing my aunt and uncle, I have to imagine it was all they could do for him just to send him to Oxford."

"Extraordinary." Darcy looked at the place where Philips had disappeared into the crowd. Two or three thousand pounds on three percent of the returns? Surely she is mistaken?

With her gaze also aimed towards the crowd, Elizabeth said, "I thank you for being so kind to him."

"It began as kindness," he said. "But if he has managed to build such a fortune from such small stakes, I think it will only redound to my benefit. I had already intended to meet him in town, and perhaps invest with him, but now I am positively determined."

"Really? You would meet him in town?"

The look of heartfelt delight that Elizabeth gave him took Darcy's breath away. "Is it so surprising? He evidently has a talent for making money, and in these uncertain times, he may well soon have a line outside of his door."

"He does have a talent," Elizabeth agreed, "but his connexions will always hinder him. Most men of better society will not speak to him."

"Stupid of them," Darcy remarked. "And stupid of me to have once been just like them. Thankfully, I have recently had occasion to see the error of my ways."

She looked at him quickly, then just as quickly dropped her gaze, her colour rising.

"Forgive me," Darcy said in a low voice. "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable."

She shook her head and said softly, "I am embarrassed by the things I said to you that night. I should have done better to hold my tongue."

"I do not agree. It seems I needed to hear those things, and who better than to hear it from than one I hold in such esteem."

After another quick peep at his face, she said, "I should think you would despise me."

"I was angry, at first," he admitted, "but my deep regard for you would not let it remain."

"Pray take heed, sir," she said with a light laugh. "Too much of that and I shall have to conclude that you have lost your resentful temper."

He smiled down at her. "Having a resentful temper is nothing to boast of, to be sure, and I should not have. But you must know by now which person I spoke of that day and what specific circumstances plagued me."

It took her a moment to recognise it. "Oh, you spoke of?—"

With a quick glance about them, he said, "Wickham."

"I had not before considered," she said slowly, "how very recent those events must have been to the time when you were first here."

"'Twas the first week in September," he told her in low tones. "Georgiana had been there about a month."

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes searching his face, but what she might have said would be lost.

"Is not this cosy!" Miss Bingley exclaimed as she inserted herself into their tête-à-tête. "Miss Eliza, you are wanted by your dear mother. It seems a bridal emergency has arisen and only you can answer for the solution."

Both Darcy and Elizabeth looked over to where Mrs Bennet was smiling and talking among a group of matrons. She did not seem to be in any way concerned for anything, wedding or otherwise, but Miss Bingley was determined. She had wound her arm through Elizabeth's and appeared willing to yank her from the space where she stood, by force if necessary. Elizabeth looked up at Darcy again and offered only the faintest smile before curtseying and asking him to excuse her.