Chapter XVII

D inner had not been what Elizabeth had expected. While Lady Catherine's ability to dominate and insist on having her way had not been beyond Elizabeth's comprehension, she thought the lady would have more tact than to raise such sensitive family disagreements in the home of another.

What was less certain was Anne's ability to withstand her mother, a question she had answered to impressive effect. Elizabeth knew she regretted the necessity of speaking to Lady Catherine in such a way despite her stoic appearance. This business with Mr. Wickham had changed her, it seemed, for Elizabeth could not have imagined the Anne de Bourgh she had known in Kent defying Lady Catherine. Perhaps it had begun before, given Anne's testimony of her determination to remove herself from her mother's stifling control. Despite the harsh words that scored wounds in the hearts of both women, Elizabeth was proud of her new friend and hopeful for her future. All deserved a life free of such casual tyranny.

For this reason, Elizabeth delayed leaving the dining-room, intent on taking a few moments to herself to sort through her feelings. Lady Catherine had seen something of Mr. Darcy's interest, provoking the argument, and while Elizabeth did not think the gentleman's decision to escort her to dinner was the most sensible thing he had ever done, she was relieved the question was answered once and for all. It was a simple truth that she did not repine her refusal of Mr. Darcy's proposal, though she now regretted the acrimonious argument that had ensued. She should have behaved better and rejected him in a more temperate manner.

Now, however, she had a distinct problem to address, for Mr. Darcy's attentions to her had not ceased, not given what she had seen of his behavior and what Lady Catherine suspected. Did Elizabeth wish for them? The honest woman in her could acknowledge that while the notion intrigued her, at that moment she was not reconciled to it. Not only did much lie between them, but the moment her mother caught wind of his interest, she would have no peace. Could she come to love a man who had provoked disgust and revulsion only a month earlier? Perhaps it was possible, but Elizabeth did not know how to take that step. It seemed like a long stride, indeed.

At length, Elizabeth sighed and rose from her chair, knowing she must join the company before their visitors departed. It would be rude if she avoided them the rest of the evening. That was when she noticed the furtive step of someone in the hall.

Curious, Elizabeth moved to the side as the figure glided past, noting its height, taller than one of her sisters though not as tall as Mr. Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam. In his hand, he held something—for Elizabeth could see from his clothing and the cut of his hair that it was a man—and as he stepped to the door of the sitting-room, he turned enough for her to see the pistol cocked, reflecting the light in the room beyond. Then he stepped within.

"Well done, Anne. Well done, indeed."

"Wickham!" came the angered voice of Mr. Darcy.

"Yes, Darcy, it is I," was the amused response of the libertine. "Sorry, old chap, but I could not help but hear the argument. It will be of some relief to you to learn that you need not marry Miss de Bourgh; I shall step into the breach and act in your stead."

Elizabeth crept forward, careful to keep her footsteps soft as the confrontation continued.

"You are a most amusing fellow, Wickham," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "If you think we will allow you to take Anne away and then take control of Rosings, you are far more foolish than I thought."

"Perhaps you are correct." Elizabeth could just see the lift of Mr. Wickham's shoulders around the door frame. "Then it would be best if you simply paid me off and allowed me to disappear from your lives. That would be preferable at this point."

"Again, your delusion astounds me. Why do you suppose we would do such a thing?"

"Because you will die if you try my patience," said Mr. Wickham. "Or perhaps Anne will die since I will take her away with me. Come, Anne, our chariot awaits. You should refrain from following us, Fitzwilliam, for I have nothing left to lose and tenuous control over myself. Should you startle me, there is no telling what I will do."

Furious at this man's effrontery, Elizabeth did not hesitate. On a shelf near the door stood an old vase that had been in the family for as long as she could remember. In one smooth motion, Elizabeth grasped the heavy thing in her hands and, swinging with all her might, brought it down on the back of Mr. Wickham's head.

The vase was sturdy enough that it made a satisfying cracking sound as it impacted, yet delicate enough that it shattered into hundreds of shards. It was also solid enough that Mr. Wickham grunted and dropped as if poleaxed, the pistol hitting the floor and skittering away from his outstretched hand. For the briefest of moments, no one in the room moved, so shocked were they by the sudden event.

Then Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam moved quickly, followed by Mr. Bingley, the latter retrieving the weapon while the former descended on the intruder to ensure he was subdued. They might not have bothered, for Mr. Wickham was insensible, lying on the floor without even a twitch. Mr. Darcy turned to Mr. Bennet, who was already moving.

"I shall send for some rope immediately, Mr. Darcy. I have no notion how he eluded my men and entered the house, but he shall not escape again."

Mr. Darcy nodded and turned to Elizabeth, the light of approval and, dare she suppose, love, shining in his eyes. Before he could voice his feelings, however, another interrupted him.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" cried the voice of Lady Catherine. "How dare you put the entire company in so much danger! Do you not know the pistol might have discharged when it hit the floor?"

"Yet Elizabeth has once again saved me from abduction," said Anne. She rose and crossed the floor, flinging herself into Elizabeth's embrace. "It appears you are my guardian angel, my friend. I do not know what I would do without you."

"I had not considered what might happen when he fell," said Elizabeth, now feeling weak with the possible consequences of her actions.

"Think nothing of it, Miss Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy, his voice exuding approval. "You held a position that allowed you to act, and you did so without hesitation. There is no reason to consider what might have happened."

"Darcy is correct, Miss Elizabeth," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I have seen enough in battle to know that there is little one can do but act with the best intentions and hope that nothing unfortunate ensues."

Elizabeth nodded, and Anne took her hand, guiding her to the sofa where she pulled Elizabeth down next to her. Shaking as she was from the event, Elizabeth did not protest, even as it took her closer to Lady Catherine than she preferred. The lady, however, did not appear disposed to continue her harangue. Instead, she was a little shamefaced.

"I... apologize, Miss Elizabeth," said the lady, her hesitation confirming she rarely felt she needed to offer her regrets. "My concern for my daughter led to my earlier words."

"Think nothing of it," said Elizabeth. "In hindsight, I recognize what might have happened."

A stable hand entered the room at that moment, accompanied by his fellow, and between them, they soon had Mr. Wickham trussed up like a goose destined for Christmas dinner. Then they pulled him to his feet between them, where Mr. Wickham swayed and groaned, only just now regaining something of his senses.

"Tie him in a stall and do not let him out of your sight," commanded Mr. Bennet. "Let us not allow him to escape again, for the man is as slippery as a garden snake."

"A snake he is, Mr. Bennet," said a stable hand, fixing Wickham with a dark look. "He won't escape us, sir."

With a nod, Mr. Bennet allowed them to drag the still groggy Mr. Wickham from the room while turning to Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. "It seems, gentlemen, it would be best to turn him over to the custody of the local constable at once. I shall send John, my footman, to summon him."

"Good," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I feel a great desire to ensure Wickham pays for his deeds."

Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Mr. Darcy and quirked an eyebrow. "Perhaps it would be best to expedite this matter to its conclusion. Given his offenses against the family, my father would doubtless use his influence to see Wickham on the next ship bound for Botany Bay."

"That would be for the best," said Mr. Darcy. "Let us forever end his schemes."

So agreeing, the gentlemen departed the room, Mr. Bingley trailing behind carrying Mr. Wickham's pistol. The sight of the weapon surprised Elizabeth, for had Mr. Wickham possessed it earlier that day he would have used it. He must have convinced one of his former colleagues in the regiment to part with it or stolen it.

"What a wicked young man he is!" exclaimed Lydia.

"Wicked Wickham is a good name for him, Lydia," agreed Mary with a decisive nod.

No one other than Elizabeth saw anything unusual in the two Bennet sisters most likely to argue agreeing in such a manner. There was no reason to comment, so Elizabeth held her peace, as the ladies in the room fell into quiet conversation in groups of two or three. The lone exception was Lady Catherine, who remained silent and pensive, though her frequent glances at Anne spoke volumes.

In time, a pair of maids arrived to clean the shards of broken pottery from the floor, and the gentlemen returned about the same time. Mr. Bennet, observing the actions of the staff, turned a grin on Elizabeth.

"I must say, Lizzy, that I appreciate you taking your vengeance on Mr. Wickham's head with a vase that no one will miss." Mr. Bennet turned to his wife. "I do not even recall where we procured that piece."

"It was a gift," replied Mrs. Bennet, proving ladies possessed a better memory for such details than their husbands. "Letitia visited Mr. Philips's family in Gloucester many years ago and brought it back as a gift." Mrs. Bennet sniffed. "I cannot count the number of times our girls almost knocked it over when they were children."

"Ah, yes, I remember something of that." Mr. Bennet winked at Elizabeth. "Then I am pleased it survived long enough to be put to good use. Now that it is no more, we shall need to consider what to put in such a position of honor."

"I suggest you place the shards in a glass display case and put it right back where it belongs," quipped Colonel Fitzwilliam. "It has seen to the ultimate downfall of George Wickham which is honor enough."

Mr. Bennet chuckled and nodded. "Perhaps you are correct, Colonel Fitzwilliam."

Mrs. Bennet appeared scandalized, but she wisely said nothing, seeming to sense it was nothing more than jesting. Then the gentlemen turned to more serious matters.

"Lady Catherine," said Mr. Darcy, "we determined it would be best for you and Anne to go to Netherfield while Fitzwilliam and I await the constable. Bingley has consented to escort you there."

"As I said before," added a grinning Mr. Bingley, "Netherfield Park is not Pemberley or Rosings Park, and Mrs. Nichols will need to hire more staff, but it is comfortable with enough rooms to house you all. It would be my honor to host you."

"Very well," said Lady Catherine, nodding regally. "Let us depart at once."

"It may be best to send for your clothes from Rosings," observed Mr. Darcy. "I do not think you brought anything with you."

"Yes, well," said Lady Catherine. "Fortunately, I possessed the forethought to plan for that eventuality. A carriage followed me to London with effects for both Anne and myself. It will be at the house in London, waiting for further instructions. Tomorrow we may journey there, for we must return to Rosings, regardless."

"I do not intend to return to Rosings at present, Mother," said Anne. "Send an express and instruct the driver to come to Netherfield, for I wish to stay here. If that is agreeable to you, Mr. Bingley."

"I would not have it any other way, Miss de Bourgh," replied a cheerful Bingley.

Lady Catherine appeared desperate to say something, but in the end, Colonel Fitzwilliam interrupted her.

"This is not the place for such a discussion, Lady Catherine. Let it wait until we gather at Netherfield."

With unmistakable ill grace, the lady subsided, though she cast several reproachful looks at her daughter. The decision to retire to Netherfield made, those departing rose and expressed their regrets, though offering their thanks—Lady Catherine only grunted in a vague approximation of such. Of course, Mr. Bingley could not retreat without taking a few minutes to converse quietly with Jane, and Anne stood with Elizabeth speaking for several minutes. When word arrived concerning the carriage, the Bennet family and the two gentlemen remaining behind escorted them to Longbourn's entrance, and wished them a good night, waving as the carriage disappeared into the oncoming gloom. Then the remaining party returned inside to await the constable.

With Jane still in a dreamy state about the return of her beau and Kitty and Lydia sitting together with their mother—Mary sat with a book open in her lap—Elizabeth settled for contemplation as the gentlemen congregated in a group of their own. However, Mr. Darcy surprised Elizabeth, as he eschewed the company of Colonel Fitzwilliam and her father, and instead came to sit by her. Mrs. Bennet's scrutiny did not escape Elizabeth's attention—though she had deplored Mr. Darcy before, her opinion must have improved, much like Elizabeth's own. What her mother might think or how she might act worried Elizabeth, but she knew there was little reason for her worry. If Mr. Darcy did not already understand Mrs. Bennet's character, it would surprise Elizabeth to learn of it.

"Miss Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy in greeting as he sat next to her. The gentleman eyed her a moment then offered: "I had thought to thank you again for dealing with Wickham, but I sense such gratitude would not be welcome."

"It appears you are learning, Mr. Darcy," replied Elizabeth, grinning at him. "I received thanks enough for the moment."

"Then I shall not offer them, except to state how proficient you are with a vase in hand. Many times, I considered the benefits of restraining Wickham using physical means, but the occasion never arose for such a perfect opportunity as that you seized with both hands."

Elizabeth nodded, but her thoughts had taken a different path altogether. "Perhaps I atoned to a certain extent for my behavior, Mr. Darcy."

"How do you mean?" asked Mr. Darcy, mystified.

"Would it surprise you to know that I have always prided myself on my ability to sketch the characters of others?"

With a sigh, understanding the thrust of her statement, Mr. Darcy nodded. "Do not concern yourself too much, Miss Elizabeth. Wickham has made deceit the practice of a lifetime."

"Perhaps he has," replied Elizabeth. "I should have been more suspicious, for one does not relate such personal matters to an acquaintance of only two days. Even if I could not detect the falsehoods in his communication, his eagerness to speak of it should have put me on my guard."

While Mr. Darcy appeared willing to refute what she said yet again, he refrained, much to Elizabeth's relief. Confess her error though she had, she had no wish to belabor the point, sensing it would do neither any good.

"Tell me, Miss Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy, his tone softer and designed to avoid being overheard, "did you credit my account at once?"

Elizabeth frowned, considering those days after she read his letter. "Perhaps not immediately," replied she. "The parts about my sister, I will own did not please me, though after a time I understood your position."

"Of course," murmured Mr. Darcy. "I knew my confession on that score would provoke you."

"Those passages referring to Mr. Wickham were both more quickly understood and harder to reconcile." Elizabeth fixed him with a rueful smile. "In warning me about Mr. Wickham, you both hit me in my vanity, whereas I supposed my judgment was infallible, and pointed out facts that I could not ignore. It was difficult, but by the time I returned to Meryton, I was determined to be more cautious of Mr. Wickham."

Elizabeth shook her head and added: "Then, of course, it did not seem to signify, for Mr. Wickham had already departed. It is well that you warned me, for I used those arguments to persuade Anne from leaving with him."

The gentleman nodded, yet a hint of apprehension fell over him. "Did you inform Anne of the... of George Wickham's other sins? The attempt to secure a fortune for himself?"

Understanding what he meant, Elizabeth put her hand on his arm and nodded. "That was what finally convinced her to surrender. I would not have mentioned it had I not thought it necessary."

With a nod, the gentleman muttered: "I hope Anne has enough sense to keep that from her mother."

"Oh, I think you do not need to concern yourself," replied Elizabeth, again feeling lighter. "Anne understands her mother's character."

Mr. Darcy regarded her, then gave her a deliberate nod. "Yes, I suppose she does. The changes in her are most astonishing."

"I suspect, Mr. Darcy, the character Anne now displays is who she has always been. She simply never believed she could show it to the world."

"Lady Catherine," said Mr. Darcy, shaking his head in annoyance. "Aunt Catherine has always dictated to Anne and would not have been happy with this show of independence. I hope we can navigate these alterations, for Lady Catherine will not be sanguine."

"I have all the confidence in the world in Anne. If you all show her a little support, she will be well."

Had any other who was not a member of the family spoken so, Darcy might have thought it hubris. It was clear, however, that Miss Elizabeth knew Anne better now than anyone in the family, regardless of the short weeks of her acquaintance compared with the lifetime of experience of the Fitzwilliams and Darcys. She had done so much for Anne that Darcy could scarcely comprehend it. It humbled him in a way he had never thought to be humbled.

Perhaps it was this, her obvious caring for Anne, that led him to speak when he should have been silent. It may have been the evidence of her superlative character, her selfless care for others, the qualities that had so enticed him from the start. Or, it may have simply been the lingering ache to have her in his life always, the devotion he felt toward her, an adoration that had built in his mind and heart until he could not remember what his life had been like before he met her. Whatever it was, Darcy could not remain silent, was helpless to do anything but lay his heart before her, even though he understood his declaration might break it.

"Miss Elizabeth," said Darcy, keeping his tone even though it threatened to tremble with suppressed emotion, "you must know that the feelings I related to you at Hunsford have not faded—if anything, they have grown stronger such that I cannot refrain from taking this opportunity to speak to you."

As her eyes widened in shock, Darcy spoke quickly to prevent her from dashing his heart to pieces before she knew all. "I do not propose again—rest assured that I shall never do so unless there is no doubt of my success. Given our recent separation and what happened the last time, I will not provoke such awkwardness again.

"What I mean to say is that my devotion has never waned; my heart is still yours. If you decide against me, I shall be silent and never return to the subject. However, if you feel you can come to know me better to learn if I can change your opinion, I should like the opportunity to prove myself."

Darcy fell silent, feeling drained as if he had run a hundred miles to be by her side. Miss Elizabeth regarded him, her expression of incomprehension charming in one always so knowing and self-assured. She glanced about the room, no doubt to see if anyone had overheard them, pulling Darcy's attention with her—it seemed they all remained oblivious, though her mother was watching them, a hint of confusion hovering about her. While it might have been a poor sign, Darcy could not find it so, for he understood her family's condition and knew she would wish to keep any possibility of a détente between them for the moment.

When she returned her attention to him, her scrutiny had more of a searching quality, as if he had shocked her and she was trying to make him out. It was, he supposed, something that was not normally done, for when a woman rejected a man's suit the usual practice was for the man to absent himself and avoid bringing her discomfort. Had Darcy felt less, he might have followed the custom, despite whatever pain it caused him.

"I must own that I am beyond shock, Mr. Darcy," said Miss Elizabeth at length. "Having given you such a vehement rejection, I thought you would avoid me at all costs."

"This situation did not allow that," reminded Darcy. "The assistance you gave to Anne guaranteed we would come together, if only for a little while."

"Yes, I suppose you must be correct."

She fell silent then, still studying him, and Darcy refrained from begging her, from promising to do anything if she would only consent. Such a display of abasement would do nothing, he thought, for she had spoken of her determination to let affection rule her choice of a husband. If she did not feel enough for him, nothing could induce her to accept.

"Perhaps there is a chance, Mr. Darcy," said Miss Elizabeth at length. Having expected a resounding negative, Darcy could summon no response, even as his heart leapt out of his chest. "I can promise nothing. But if... if there is an opportunity to begin again, I would appreciate coming to know you anew. If we begin under that understanding, I cannot predict the result."

By this time, Darcy was grinning like a fool, caring nothing for the picture he was giving her family. Elizabeth had agreed to know him better! Her assertion of uncertainty aside, Darcy felt as if she had consented to everything he had ever wished. There was a chance—against all odds, he now had a chance!

"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth," replied he, keeping his comments low where he would have preferred to shout to the heavens. "Let us proceed slowly, for I wish you to know me in any way you wish. There are many things I do not know about you, and I wish to learn them more than anything else I have ever wanted."

Miss Elizabeth nodded, her cheeks slightly pink. A moment later, they noticed the noise of wheels on gravel outside the house. Darcy joined Mr. Bennet and Colonel Fitzwilliam—both of whom shot him amused grins, proving they had not misunderstood what had happened. The constable appeared to be a capable sort of man, agreeing to hold Wickham as long as required when he understood the deeds he had committed. Soon, the stable hands brought Wickham between them, now returned to consciousness and wild with fear. Darcy ignored his pleas and saw him incarcerated in the wagon, after which the constable and his deputy took the bounder away.

To Darcy, however, this was nothing more than a distraction, such that he allowed Mr. Bennet and his cousin to deal with the matter while Darcy watched and mused. Miss Elizabeth had agreed to give him a chance. What could be more important than that?