Chapter Fifteen

Elizabeth

E lizabeth returned to the house and made her way to her aunt's chamber. She knocked gently, not wanting to startle her, but her cheerful voice called her in a moment later. When she entered, she found her aunt sitting on a chair by the window, her foot propped up on a stool in front of her.

"Aunt Gardiner, you are awake. I hope you did not put yourself in the chair. You should've called for me."

Her aunt smiled and put aside the book she had been reading.

"Mr Lightower and Mr Cogsworth helped me. Mrs Potts was there too. When she saw me attempting to make it to the chair on my own, she gave me a stern rebuke before summoning them," her aunt chuckled. "Do you know, I remember Mrs Potts from when I was a child? My parents took me on a tour of Pemberley once, and she greeted us. It's funny, I thought she was old then, but now I am the age she was then, and I do not feel terribly old. Well, now, I do," she nodded her chin towards her foot.

"You seem in good spirits otherwise."

Her aunt sank back in the chair, hands folded on her lap.

"Well, I do feel a little better. Mr Smith, Mr Darcy's physician, did seem more skilled than that poor, hapless surgeon. He gave me a number of tinctures and prescribed poultices. He applied one earlier. You can perhaps still smell it."

Elizabeth paused and inhaled, and indeed, she could smell the unmistakable scent of porridge mixed with acrid vinegar in the air.

"Mrs Potts even had the cook make me hot cross buns, even though we are well past Easter, only because I mentioned that I liked them so much. This area is famous for them. Did you know?"

Elizabeth knew exactly what her aunt was doing. She was trying to be cheerful, hoping that it would inspire Elizabeth to be likewise cheered.

However, it wasn't quite working. "What is it? Mrs Potts said you and Mr Darcy were talking. She had hoped that perhaps it might inspire some sort of companionship."

"I do not think that there is much companionship to be had with Mr Darcy," she said, for a moment. "I thought it might be. We spoke about books, and he seemed to soften somewhat, but it was all undone with the arrival of Mr Wickham."

"Mr Wickham?" her aunt asked.

A knock on the door sounded, and Mrs Potts appeared with fresh sheets.

"I beg your pardon for the intrusion. I can come back later," she said quickly and backed a step.

"No, there is no need. Please come in. My niece was just telling me about a visit from a certain Mr Wickham."

The housekeeper's face twisted into a grimace. "We had not seen that face here for quite some time. It is most unfortunate that he has taken up the living he originally declined."

Elizabeth was surprised to hear the housekeeper speak so frankly in front of them. However, her aunt nodded eagerly.

"I had heard things about this Mr Wickham, none of them pleasant. He was the steward's son, was he not?"

"He was. He was a pleasant young man, but he grew into a lesser man than his father. I am afraid his father and Mr Darcy's good influence failed him. To tell the truth, I was glad when he left for school and didn't return. Although Miss Darcy missed him."

Elizabeth remembered the conversation between Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham about putting up a memorial for Mr Darcy's sister and the others who died in the fire. She felt bad for not remembering their names. She shared this conversation with Mrs Potts who chuckled bitterly.

"A scheme, no doubt. Mr Wickham is the sort to always have a scheme of some kind. He was like that even as a little boy."

"Do you think that he genuinely cares?" Elizabeth asked. She knew that likely the woman was right, Mrs Potts had known Mr Wickham for far longer, but still, maybe it was Jane and Charles's influence, but part of her almost hoped that there was some redeeming quality in Mr Wickham.

"I am certain he did not. Miss Darcy was rather fond of Mr Wickham when she was a child, and when she grew up, Mr Wickham set out to charm her," she said while stripping the bed while she spoke, never missing a beat.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, fearing the worst.

"Miss Darcy inherited a fortune from her parents and Mr Darcy, being a savvy landowner, stood to only increase that fortune. A man like Mr Wickham was not going to make do with a living if there was more to be had. So he did all he could to make the poor thing believe she was in love with him. I did not witness this myself, but Mrs Reynolds told me all about it," she smiled fondly as she thought of her predecessor. "She always was a gabster, that Iris." The smile faltered, no doubt as she recalled they would make no further memories together.

"Mr Wickham tried to sweeten her up so she'd make him a rich man," Mrs Potts said. "That sounds unkind, but that is the sort of man he is."

"Did he not do that in Meryton?" Aunt Gardiner asked, and Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

"I am afraid so. For a time, everyone thought very highly of him, but that quickly changed. In the end, none of the landowners would welcome him to their homes, and even in town the well to do residents kept him away from their daughters."

"At one point, he attempted his luck with you, did he not?" her aunt asked and Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably.

"He did. I made it clear I was not interested. In any case, I am to marry Mr Darcy now," she replied.

"Well, he will be very upset that Mr Darcy succeeded once more. They were always in competition those two. Or rather, Mr Wickham was competing with Mr Darcy. Mr Darcy never saw reason to lower himself to that standard," Mrs Potts chimed in while fluffing the pillows.

"Well, I imagine a man like Mr Wickham is quite beneath the Darcy family's touch," her aunt said.

"Naturally, that is the case, but that isn't why Mr Darcy didn't want Mr Wickham around. He always saw right through him and when he started swaying Miss Darcy, he put a stop to it right quick. Banned him from visiting the property again. He is a very clever man, and he made sure that Miss Darcy overheard the conversation during which Mr Wickham admitted that the young lady was just a means to an end for him. She was heartbroken."

"When was this?" Elizabeth asked.

"Let me think. Miss Darcy would have been seventeen this year. She died just before her fifteenth birthday and this was not very long before then. So she would have been fourteen then. So, about three years ago."

Elizabeth calculated in her head and realised that this was around the time Mr Wickham came south and started working for the wine merchant. He arrived in Meryton sometime after that and had been there for several months before she made his acquaintance.

"Was she very cross with Mr Darcy?" Elizabeth asked, for suddenly she had been gripped by a fear that perhaps the siblings had had a falling out before her death. How awful it would have been if they had quarrelled and never had the chance to make up.

"She understood it was for the best. Mr Darcy always had his sister's best interest at heart, and I think she appreciated that. What a terrible, terrible shame. She was such a beautiful soul. She would have made a wonderful wife and mother. I will say she took a part of Mr Darcy with her when she went. A tragedy, and for him to have no other family left but his cousin…"

Elizabeth found her lost in thought and took stock of all she had learned so far of the man she would marry soon. He had by all accounts been a little high in the instep before the fire, but such behaviour was common among those of his rank. He was well loved by his servants, at least those who remained. His family's reputation had been nothing if not stellar, as had his.

By all accounts he had been incredibly close to his sister, and such a loss even without having to face the destruction of one's childhood home, had to change a person. Elizabeth was not blind to this. However, there was something else that bothered her.

"What of his family?" she asked, and the two women came to a stop in their conversation, both confused as that they had been talking about something completely different.

"Mr Darcy's family, I mean. I was just thinking about you saying how he changed with the loss of his sister and how there was no family left. But he has an uncle. And aunt. I know Lady Catherine personally."

Mrs Potts was just finishing up with the bed when she turned and leaned against the bedpost.

"Yes, there is family. I misspoke. I should have said no family that is in his life. Lord Matlock was here on a number of occasions after the fire. He is a decent fellow, although influenced by both his wife and his sister Lady Catherine. Mr Darcy made it clear to him that he wanted to be left alone, and Lord Matlock agreed to this. He is not the sort of man to involve himself in other people's affairs. Lady Catherine, on the other hand—she always wished to marry her daughter, Miss Anne, off to Mr Darcy based on a childhood vow she and her sister made. But when it became clear that Mr Darcy was quite changed after the fire, she no longer deemed him as suitable."

It took a moment to understand what she meant, and then Elizabeth found herself angry on Mr Darcy's behalf.

"Because of how he looks?" she asked, not wanting it to be true.

"Indeed, because of his scars," Mrs Potts said. "She sees him as a stain upon the Fitzwilliam family, and his being a recluse and gaining a reputation for being… Well, you know what they say about him. It hasn't made her more amiable towards him. Her daughter still writes to Mr Darcy, and Lord Matlock's son Colonel Fitzwilliam calls on him with regularity, but outside of that, he's quite alone." The sorrow in her voice was unmistakable.

"Well, no more now that you are here," she said with a hopeful tone.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. Then she realised it was true. Mr Darcy did have her now, whether he wanted to or not. She thought back to those few moments of camaraderie when they had discussed the book, and she wondered if perhaps it was the reason for her to be here now.

Elizabeth tried her best to be always rational and did not always put much stock in the church. This always alarmed her mother, who was rather pious, but Elizabeth could not deny that the circumstances that had brought her to Pemberley were so peculiar that it seemed almost as if they had been directed by some unseen force.

It was not that she suddenly had any sort of affectionate feelings towards Mr Darcy, but hearing more of his story from the people who knew him had made her understand that perhaps there was more to him. She bit her lip and raised her chin.

"Mrs Potts, I think I should like to have dinner with Mr Darcy tonight. Will you arrange it?"

Mrs Potts blinked twice, then looked at her before falling into a smile. "Miss Bennet, I will be glad to." Then, as the conversation returned to more mundane things, Elizabeth sat quietly, determined to try her hardest to make the best of the situation they were in.