Chapter XI

L ongbourn's sitting-room had always been a cozy, welcoming sort of place in Elizabeth's opinion. The room exuded warmth and family, the décor consisting of light patterned wallpaper, the furniture well-fashioned, made of fine designs in keeping with the rest of the room. It perhaps did not match the opulence of the great room at Rosings Park, but then again, Longbourn could not compare with the venerable estate in Kent.

When Elizabeth led Anne into her mother's domain, she watched her friend, curious if she would show any sign of what she thought of the place in which she now found herself. There was nothing that Elizabeth could see, for Anne appeared to concentrate on what was happening at the moment rather than on the appointments.

Within the sitting-room her mother was alone, in her hands a fashion magazine, though it did not look as if she had been paying it any heed. Her mother was not the sort of person to sit alone at the best of times, preferring some company with whom she could exchange banal comments or complaints about her infamous nerves. Of the latter, Elizabeth had always thought there were far too many. When Elizabeth entered with Anne and Jane trailing, her mother looked up, and when noticing the visitor stood as was proper.

"Lizzy," said she, "I did not know you were to bring a visitor."

"We met by chance in Meryton, Mama, and there is quite a story behind it. Perhaps we should summon Papa before we begin."

Mrs. Bennet appeared mystified by this request, but she acceded readily enough, taking the bell cord and summoning Mrs. Hill. A few instructions later the woman left on her errand, both to inform Mr. Bennet of their visitor and to fetch a tea service for their consumption. It might have been awkward had Mr. Bennet dallied, for Mrs. Bennet looked at Anne with curiosity, while Anne finally found some interest in her surroundings.

"Yes, Mrs. Bennet?" asked Mr. Bennet as he stepped into the room a moment later. He caught sight of Anne at once and appeared to sense something of the reason for his summons.

"I see you brought a visitor, Lizzy," said he, turning to Elizabeth.

"Will you not introduce us, Elizabeth?" invited Anne, before Mr. Bennet could speak; as the master of the house, he could ask for the introduction, though Anne was of a higher sphere.

"Of course," said Elizabeth.

Elizabeth performed the introductions, presenting her parents first to Anne and then reciprocating. Whatever her parents had expected, it was not the daughter of Mr. Collins's patroness, a woman of whom they had heard but little—that, of course, was because Mr. Collins had focused his considerable verbosity on praising his patroness rather than the woman's daughter. Not that they had heard nothing, for Elizabeth remembered distinctly a few choice words Mr. Collins had offered when asked about Lady Catherine's daughter.

"Miss de Bourgh," said Mr. Bennet, speaking for his wife, "you are very welcome here. I must own, however, to some shock, for I had not expected to welcome one known to my heir into my home."

"No, I cannot imagine you did," replied Anne a little wryly. "The tale of my coming is a stupendous account, containing libertinous villains, distressed damsels, and a heroine who would stop at nothing to thwart the rogue and perform a daring rescue."

Elizabeth turned to Anne, shocked she had made such a sportive statement, not having thought her capable of such. Mrs. Bennet tittered, and Jane smiled, but her father offered an amused snicker.

"Is ‘libertinous' an actual word, Miss de Bourgh?"

"I believe I may safely say it is now, Mr. Bennet," assured Anne.

"Yes, well, if we are to invent words on the spot to describe today's events, I am certain they must be worth hearing. Let us sit and you may tell us all about it."

Thus invited, they all took their seats, Mr. Bennet glancing toward Elizabeth and Anne in turn. "Since it appears you both share knowledge of today's events, I suppose you will wish to share in the telling. Or perhaps Lizzy would prefer to take the lead? I apologize, Miss de Bourgh, but the few reports we received of you suggested you are not exactly... verbose."

"I am not," replied Anne, "though I am not precisely as taciturn as my cousin Darcy."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Darcy," mused Mr. Bennet. "I had forgotten about that connection."

Mrs. Bennet huffed, drawing the attention of the company to her. Elizabeth, feeling mortified at her mother's outburst, directed a stern warning to her, but Anne only smiled at her.

"It seems my cousin has been making himself agreeable to the neighborhood." The understated sarcasm in Anne's tone again caught Elizabeth by surprise. "While I have attended little society with him, my other cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has told me many tales of his exploits to entertain me."

Seeming to understand she had risked provoking offense, Mrs. Bennet offered: "Mr. Darcy does not speak much. I commented on that facet of his character more than once."

"It is a Darcy family curse," replied Anne. "But we did not come to exchange stories of Darcy." Anne turned to Elizabeth. "If you would, Elizabeth?"

While Elizabeth thought the story began before her involvement, given Mr. Wickham must have spent some time convincing her, then traveling with her to Hertfordshire that very day, she assented. With an economy of words, she described the Bennet sisters' sojourn to Meryton that morning, how she had espied Anne in the carriage, and Lydia's assertions concerning Mr. Wickham's return. Then she spoke of how she had approached Anne and convinced her to abandon her design of eloping with Mr. Wickham, then their escape from Meryton and to Longbourn. By the end of her tale, her mother was fretful and her father knowing.

"That is an interesting tale, Lizzy," said Mr. Bennet. "Thus are the identities of the damsel, the heroine, and the villain made clear." He chuckled and added: "I agree with your assessment, Miss de Bourgh, for the man in question appears to be more than a little libertinous."

Anne laughed, but Elizabeth could not help but feel abashed. "I am not a heroine, Papa."

"Yet you acted when you saw a problem, Lizzy, without hesitation or thought to the consequences." Mr. Bennet regarded her, the warmth of his affection filling her with happiness. "It is so like you to rush in and right a perceived wrong—I cannot but say your perception was accurate, as usual."

"I am grateful to your daughter for her actions," said Miss de Bourgh. "Though Mr. Wickham convinced me to depart Rosings with him, and I shall not say what prompted me to accept, I had second thoughts almost from the first moment. Had Elizabeth not convinced me, I cannot say that I would have acted to save myself."

"But Mr. Wickham!" wailed Mrs. Bennet. "He has always presented such gentlemanly manners. It is unfathomable to think that he is a dastardly villain!"

Mr. Bennet nodded and turned to Elizabeth. "Given your efforts to convince Miss de Bourgh, you must have known something of him. I do not recall you saying anything on the subject before you went to Kent; might I assume you learned something of him there?"

This was straying into uncomfortable territory. Of Mr. Darcy's proposal, Elizabeth had told only Jane, and she did not mean to inform anyone else of the event. Furthermore, and perhaps more relevant, Elizabeth had made no secret of her disdain for Mr. Darcy. Had she moderated her words in the autumn, it would be easier to share the matter of his dealings with Mr. Wickham—avoiding any mention of Miss Darcy, of course. There was nothing to be done, so Elizabeth did not waste time on useless regrets.

"I did hear something of Mr. Wickham, Papa," said Elizabeth. "At present, I do not think I should speak at great length about Mr. Wickham and why I believed Mr. Darcy's account. Suffice to say that Mr. Wickham is not a good man, for he swindles merchants, games, and is free with his behavior to the ladies."

Mr. Bennet nodded slowly. "I am not surprised, Elizabeth, given his actions toward Miss de Bourgh here. As we now understand what sort of man he is, I suppose we must now brand his actions toward Miss Mary King to be most hatefully mercenary."

"Mary king?" asked Anne.

"A young lady of the neighborhood," said Elizabeth. "After she inherited a fortune of ten thousand pounds, he made himself agreeable to her. They were close to announcing an engagement when her uncle took her to Liverpool."

"There was little gossip in the neighborhood," said Mr. Bennet, "though it was a wonder they did not get wind of it. Most of the gentlemen suspect the uncle learned something of Mr. Wickham and acted to protect his niece."

"From a fortune of ten thousand pounds, he turned his attention to Rosings." Miss de Bourgh shook her head and turned to Elizabeth. "Do you suppose he approached me upon hearing of your visit to Mrs. Collins?"

It was a notion Elizabeth had not considered, one that made her uncomfortable. Anne noted it, and she reached forward to grasp her hand.

"I do not accuse you, Elizabeth, for you had nothing more than an innocent visit to your close friend in mind."

"It is possible," conceded Mr. Bennet. "As I recall, Wickham resigned his position and left while Elizabeth was in Kent. If the notion did not occur to him immediately, it may have some time after Elizabeth departed."

"What an odious man he is!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "To think we had a snake in our midst all winter! What damage has he caused in Meryton?"

Mr. Bennet regarded his wife, the slow nod an acknowledgment of her question. "That is the difficulty, Mrs. Bennet, though I suppose we will not know unless we approach the merchants." Mr. Bennet grimaced and added: "And the fathers of the district, given Elizabeth's testimony."

"So I understand, Papa," said Elizabeth, not at all happy with the notion.

"Among the silly girls of the neighborhood, my youngest daughters are possibly the silliest. I suppose we must ask after their doings too."

Mrs. Bennet gasped, and Elizabeth spoke up before her mother could do so. "I do not think there is any need to be concerned on that score, Papa. If you recall, Lydia was put out with Mr. Wickham's pursuit of Miss King."

"Yes, I suppose you are correct," mused Mr. Bennet. "Perhaps Miss King provided a fortunate distraction for the libertine for the entire neighborhood. It is equally providential that her uncle is such a conscientious man. There is no proof that the merchants escaped his depredations, but I heard nothing that leads me to believe there is anything amiss."

"The colonel is a good man, Papa," said Elizabeth. "Perhaps he warned the merchants against extending credit."

"Yes, let us hope so." Mr. Bennet turned to Elizabeth and asked: "One last matter I must know, Elizabeth, is whether you escaped unobserved."

"That he did not catch us on the road must suggest we did," said Elizabeth. "Yet I cannot say for certain whether someone else saw us. Mr. Wickham might learn of it if he asks about the town."

"That is what I suspect," said Mr. Bennet. "Then I must arrange for John and the stable hands to watch the house. We would not want Mr. Wickham to enter, for I suspect he may be a desperate man."

Mr. Bennet rose and left the room to give his instructions, leaving the ladies within. Jane was calm as was her wont and Anne appeared deep in thought. Mrs. Bennet, however, fretted and moaned about libertines and snakes. Elizabeth paid little heed, for she was considering the events of the day and, of perhaps more concern, that her younger sisters were still in Meryton. Mr. Wickham would have no reason to target them, or so Elizabeth thought. If he learned Elizabeth had led Anne away to Longbourn, however, there was no telling what he might do to rescue his designs.

A moment later, Mr. Bennet came into the room, his expression bleak. "It seems I called for the stable hands at a most propitious moment, for there is a carriage approaching through the village at great speed."

At this news, they all rose and went to the window, to see that Mr. Bennet had spoken the truth. A cloud of dust confirmed the passage of a carriage approaching Longbourn's gates, entering and only slowing once it had attained the drive. The man Elizabeth had seen in Meryton perched atop the driver's box, and within the confines of the carriage, she could see the silhouette of another man. It appeared Mr. Wickham had come.

"Stay within," instructed Mr. Bennet. "I shall have John and the hands run him off."

The ladies all nodded to Mr. Bennet's instructions, and when he left the room, they turned back to the window to see Mr. Wickham step down from the carriage. He noted their presence in the window at once if his scowl in their direction was any indication. A moment later their father exited the house, the footman, John, on his heel, while from the side of the house, the two stable hands, the carriage driver, and even Longbourn's elderly gardener appeared, all taking positions before the house.

As the windows were open in deference to the warmth of the day, the ladies could hear every word they spoke.

An amusing truth about Lady Catherine was how she could not stay awake within the confines of a moving carriage. Travel in London, with its attendant stops and starts, the rattling of the wheels on the cobbles, and the general bustle of the city kept her awake. The moment they reached the open roads north of the city, her eyes drooped, and she soon relaxed against the side of the carriage, snoring softly. Darcy exchanged an amused glance with Fitzwilliam and burst into laughter.

"Is there something about your aunt you would like to share?" asked Bingley.

"Only that sleeping in a carriage is one of our aunt's more humorous foibles," replied Fitzwilliam.

"Perhaps we should remain quiet and ensure she stays sleeping," cautioned Bingley. "I apologize for offending your sensibilities, but it seems the best way to endure her."

Fitzwilliam sniggered at Bingley's suggestion and rejoined: "I am uncertain if even the carriage breaking to pieces about her would be enough to wake her. Anne has told me of times when she has had to shake her mother to rouse her, even after the shortest journeys."

"Then we may speak without fear of being overheard," said Bingley, looking at Lady Catherine as if he expected her to open her eyes and begin berating them at any moment.

"No fear at all," replied Fitzwilliam.

"Well, that is a relief and no mistake," said Bingley, sighing. "As I informed you before, I do not think I have ever made the acquaintance of someone quite like your aunt."

"It is my fervent hope, Bingley," said Fitzwilliam, "that there is not another like Aunt Catherine. If there is, the world might not survive."

Bingley snorted a laugh at this observation, but Fitzwilliam only grinned and turned to Darcy. "The situation with Anne notwithstanding, I find myself pleased by our present progress toward Meryton, Darcy."

"And why would that be?" asked Darcy, though he already suspected what his cousin would say.

"Why, because it takes us closer to Wickham. Even if he is not involved with this business, I still think it is about time to deal with him. Permanently."

"I shall not gainsay you," replied Darcy with a sigh. "Not this time."

Fitzwilliam regarded Darcy and then turned to Bingley. "You know, Bingley old chap, we have had this conversation many times, and Darcy has always found some reason to offer the worthless bounder clemency. What do you suppose is different about this time?"

"The presence of a potential lady love, perhaps?" suggested Bingley, not hiding his grin in the slightest.

"That is a possibility." Fitzwilliam regarded him for some moments then said: "If that is so, then I wonder why he did not deal with Wickham last autumn when the cur appeared."

"Ah, but I suspect Darcy was fighting his attraction then. Now that he has had additional time in her company in Kent, he has no more will to fight against her allure."

"That must be it," replied Fitzwilliam, showing a beatific smile. "I always knew a woman would one day be his undoing. I trust that Miss Elizabeth will be gentle with him, for he is not a bad sort."

"Then it is fortunate that we travel toward Meryton and his destiny, no matter what else awaits us. Had I a glass in my hand, I would offer a toast to the fair Miss Elizabeth Bennet!"

"Have a care," said Darcy. "It is not beyond the realm of possibility that Lady Catherine might awake."

"Yes, it is," retorted Fitzwilliam.

Darcy shook his head. While he esteemed Fitzwilliam and loved him as his cousin above any other man alive, he had the distressing tendency to believe himself humorous. At times like these, when his cousin got it into his head to tease indiscriminately, Darcy would as soon plant a facer on him, if only to induce him to be silent.

"I believe, my chortling cousin, that we need to concentrate on Anne."

"We will find them both in Meryton," said Fitzwilliam. "Or beyond Meryton if he has taken her so far. I have never been so certain about the veracity of my intuition as I was when word arrived of Wickham's sighting in Watford. He will go to Meryton—mark my words."

"Perhaps you are correct," replied Darcy, "but given the time of day, it is likely he is already beyond Meryton."

"Yes, I must suppose you are correct." Fitzwilliam sat back and considered the situation. "Given he has only two choices beyond Meryton, I must suppose that he will make for Luton. As he has already abandoned the Great North Road, he will worry that any pursuit has already traveled beyond him should he return there. Thus, he will take the more westerly road to the north, perhaps eventually passing through Manchester or Liverpool."

"Gretna is on the western end of the border, as I recall," observed Bingley.

"That it is," agreed Fitzwilliam. "But if Wickham thinks he shall reach it unobstructed, he is out of his wits. I doubt he will approach within one hundred miles."

"Excellent," replied Bingley. "That means I shall return to Netherfield, the earlier the better."

"Oh?" asked Fitzwilliam lazily, though Darcy caught his cousin's darted glance. "I sense a tale here, Bingley. Have you also found yourself entrapped by a lady as Darcy has?"

"Entrapped is not the correct word," said Bingley with a grin. "Ensorcelled might be closer to the truth, though I cannot say if she will have me."

"How could she resist?" teased Fitzwilliam. "Unless, of course, you managed to botch your wooing altogether."

"Alas, I fear I may have done just that," said Bingley, clearly enjoying the banter. "For you see, though she is the kindest, most beauteous and fair woman in all the land, I foolishly failed to return when I left in November, and now must risk a broken heart forever."

"You do not say, Bingley," said Fitzwilliam. "Given the quality of the creature you describe, I cannot account for such laxness. What prevented you from returning? Or should I say whom?"

Again, Bingley's eyes found him, and Darcy's sharp-eyed cousin caught the gesture. Darcy tried to glare at his cousin, a warning to remain silent, but Fitzwilliam ignored him.

"Might I assume Darcy stuck his nose in where it did not belong?"

"Darcy had a part in it," said Bingley, "though I believe his advice was well meant. The greater portion of the argument was my sisters', though I share some of the blame for not standing by my convictions."

"Yes, I cannot but suppose you do ," said Fitzwilliam. "I hope you repented of your uncertainty."

"Without a doubt, Fitzwilliam," said Bingley with a grin. "I shall grovel at her feet if I think it has any chance of success."

"Then I cannot imagine she can resist you, Bingley," said Fitzwilliam. "If you must, lean Miss Bingley over your knee and spank her, proving you will never listen to her again!"

Bingley roared with laughter, and true to Fitzwilliam's assertion, Lady Catherine only snorted before lapsing into her soft snoring again.

"She would deserve it!" exclaimed Bingley. "And richly."

Fitzwilliam grinned and turned to Darcy. "I hope you learned your lesson, Darcy."

"I have," replied Darcy, wishing this interminable conversation would end. Unfortunately, it was about to become worse.

"There is a part of this saga about which you are unaware, Darcy; I suppose I should acquaint you with it."

Darcy regarded his cousin, wondering what he was about. "What do you mean?" asked he against his better judgment.

"Only that a few days before we left Kent, I chanced upon Miss Bennet walking the grounds of Rosings Park. I offered to accompany her of course, and during our conversation, I mentioned something of your recent doings that I now regret."

The icy hand of foreboding gripped Darcy's heart, but before he could prevent Fitzwilliam, he continued to speak.

"Though I could not know at the time—I did suspect—it pertains to this situation with your friend, his beloved, and the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Now that I think about it, she appeared distressed though at the time I thought it was a product of too long in the sun. What I said to her I think you can guess, for it concerned your recent self-congratulations for having lately saved a friend from the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage."

"Fitzwilliam!" barked Darcy, aghast at what his friend said. "I referenced the business only obliquely and most certainly did not state it in such insensitive terms."

"No, you did not," agreed Fitzwilliam, smiling apologetically at Bingley. "In this instance, I suppose I must look on my habit of embellishment with a jaundiced eye."

Far from being offended, Bingley appeared most amused. "I cannot imagine Miss Elizabeth appreciated such gossip at all! Why, I suspect she peeled the paint from the walls with nothing more than the knife's edge of her sharp tongue!"

Fitzwilliam laughed at the observation, while Darcy could do nothing more than shake his head. How Miss Elizabeth had learned of his interference in that matter he had not known, though he had wondered. Now it was all clear. Darcy fixed a glare on his cousin, and Fitzwilliam had the grace to appear abashed.

"Sometimes, Cousin, you are the worst gossip."

"I suppose I should have kept my own counsel," replied he. "On that occasion, I will own I had detected some partiality on your part. I spoke intending to impart an amusing anecdote, hoping to raise you in her esteem."

"Instead, he confirmed her suspicions that Darcy here was responsible for Miss Bennet's heartache." Bingley was nearly quivering with laughter. "No doubt she suspected you of chaining me in your dungeon until I gave oath I would not pursue her. Might I assume she found occasion to make her displeasure known to you without the possibility of misunderstanding?"

Darcy sighed and wearily massaged his temples. "Let us simply say that she communicated her anger with great proficiency."

"I can well imagine it," said Fitzwilliam. He turned a serious look on Darcy and said: "I apologize, Cousin, for I had no notion the tale would be anything other than amusing."

"Do not concern yourself, Fitzwilliam," was Darcy's only response. It was his fault, after all—Fitzwilliam had not created the situation. Perhaps he had fanned the flames of Miss Elizabeth's ire, but Darcy had set the bonfire, positioning each stick and log with painstaking care certain to provoke her disapproval.

Bingley, however, regarded him through wide eyes. "With all this, you still believe you have a chance of inducing her to accept your suit. You will forgive me, my friend, but Miss Elizabeth has always struck me as a woman who is implacable when one toys with her family, especially Miss Bennet."

"Yes, that is true," said Darcy. "Before I left Kent, however, I had occasion to explain matters to her, to clear up certain... misconceptions she had about me."

"That is how you learned of your error regarding Miss Bennet," said Bingley with a nod.

"It is," confirmed Darcy. "Now that you will return to Miss Bennet, her sister will not hold that against me, for while she can be implacable, she is also reasonable. Another matter I made clear to her is the truth about Wickham."

Fitzwilliam shot Darcy a look, likely wondering whether Georgiana's episode with Wickham had formed part of his explanation. It had, but that was not something about which to speak at present. Fitzwilliam seemed to realize it too, though the set of his jaw suggested he meant to have that discussion, and likely sooner than Darcy might wish.

"Then there may be some hope," said Bingley.

"There is always hope, Bingley. In that vein, when this business with Anne is complete, might I beg for an invitation for Georgiana to join us at Netherfield?"

Fitzwilliam guffawed and Bingley chortled at the request, so patently transparent was it. "Well played, Darcy," said Bingley. "My sister has so often used yours to recommend herself that I see you understand the potential though in reverse. May your endeavors be more successful than hers have been."

"This is most interesting, Bingley," said Fitzwilliam. "You have forgiven Darcy for his offenses with little hesitation. You must be an excellent chap, indeed."

"It appears there is no choice," replied Bingley. "If we are to be brothers someday, I must tolerate him as a closer connection.

"Of course," added Bingley with a wink, "it will not be in the manner my sister always wished. I shall swallow my offense on her behalf, for I suspect Miss Elizabeth Bennet will be a most excellent wife for your cousin. If nothing else, she will keep him on his toes!"

"She will at that!" exclaimed Fitzwilliam.

At that moment, the carriage slowed, the three men looking out on several buildings set close together with little apparent planning. It seemed they had arrived in Watford.