Chapter XXIV

E lizabeth communicated her discussion with Mr. Darcy to Jane when she returned from her walk. Jane listened intently to her account, and when Elizabeth had completed it, she nodded, though Jane's regard struck Elizabeth as odd.

"Then it is done. With any luck, our maneuver will bear fruit."

"We shall see what Mr. Darcy and his relations do," replied Elizabeth. "Kitty and Lydia cannot grow many degrees worse without Papa needing to lock them in their rooms. Hopefully, Mama will see sense."

Jane nodded, but she did not respond directly to Elizabeth's assertion, which was unusual given the critical nature of her comment. "Tell me, Lizzy—do you suppose your friends will think poorly of you?"

Elizabeth frowned, not having considered such a thing. "No, I do not suppose they will. Mr. Darcy already knows of Kitty and Lydia's lack of restraint, and I dare say neither Colonel Fitzwilliam nor Anne will look down on us because of it either. None of them are so judgmental as to hold the girls' actions against us.

"Lady Catherine, however..." Elizabeth exchanged a glance with her sister, brimming with mirth. "The lady has made her opinions concerning proper behavior known with all the frankness of her character! If anyone were to hold it against us, it would be she."

"Do you suppose she will?"

"Only in what she witnesses of their behavior, for Mr. Darcy does not mean to inform her of it."

Jane nodded. "If you will pardon my saying it, Lizzy, though I do not know the lady nearly so well as you do, it seems to me that Lady Catherine would not so much look down on them as look on them as young ladies to whose education she must attend."

With a frown, Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I suppose you must be correct. As the lady has owned herself, she does love to be of use to others!"

Jane giggled at Elizabeth's characterization of Lady Catherine. The lady's statements about Miss Pope, her long-winded explanations of how she dealt with disharmony at Rosings, to say nothing of her insistent questioning of Elizabeth herself spoke to the lady's temperament. Meddling it may be to some, and Elizabeth could not disagree. Now that she was better acquainted with Lady Catherine, she was certain it mostly stemmed from an overwhelming desire to be of use.

"Then that puts Lady Catherine's character in a new light. Recent events lend themselves to a new interpretation of Mr. Darcy too. It was not so long ago that you would have expected the gentleman to greet such an application with a haughty sniff of disdain."

Elizabeth sighed, understanding the thrust of Jane's contention. "My opinion of the gentleman has undergone a radical change. Mr. Darcy retains the ability to be arrogant, conceited, above his company, and mulishly uncommunicative, but I no longer believe that defines him. There is a... softer side to the gentleman that he did not display in the autumn. For that matter, he did not display it in Kent in the spring."

"Where does this leave you, Lizzy?"

"Interested to see where his stated desire to begin again will take us," said Elizabeth.

"Then you do not regret refusing him."

"Jane, could you have accepted such a proposal as he offered?"

Jane shook her head. "No, I do not suppose I could."

"If you think about it," said Elizabeth, an amusing notion coming to her, "I can boast the distinction of receiving possibly the two worst proposals in history. Mr. Collins, with his simpering assurances and reasons for marrying, and Mr. Darcy's arrogance and utter confidence that no woman in her right mind would refuse him."

By the time Elizabeth enumerated the faults of the two proposals she had rejected, Jane was laughing openly as she had intended. "Should Mr. Bingley propose to you, I hope he gives a better account of himself than either of my suitors. I had stupidity and arrogance to deal with—I might wonder what will characterize my next proposal."

"I would hope that Mr. Darcy—for I am certain he will offer for you again—would acquit himself better next time."

"Yes, I certainly hope so."

Jane regarded her seriously. "Is there a chance he will succeed?"

"There is always a chance, Jane," replied Elizabeth. "I cannot say at this moment that I wish to accept him, but he has grown in my esteem these past days. That is all I could ever want, so we shall see what comes of it."

"Then I shall hope your Mr. Darcy displays himself to his best advantage."

"Heavens, no!" cried Elizabeth. "I wish to know him at his worst, for if he makes me enamored with him when he is behaving well, when the inevitable difficulties arise, I will not know if I can endure him!"

"How you carry on, Lizzy," said Jane, fixing her with a fond smile. "Do you not suppose you have already seen Mr. Darcy at his worst?"

"You are correct," acknowledged Elizabeth. "That gives me hope."

"Allow him to make his case, Lizzy. If you do and he impresses you, then you will have no reason to refuse and shall be happy in life."

"I hope so, Jane," replied Elizabeth.

Wickham's complaints and pleas for mercy were nothing Darcy had not expected. Though he had seemed resigned to his fate the day they visited him in Meryton's jail, it was not in Wickham's nature to submit to anything he did not like. To spend the next twenty years of his life working to pay for his crimes was anathema to a man who had never done a minute's work if he could avoid it.

Darcy and Fitzwilliam were on hand when Meryton's burly deputies escorted him from the cell into the prison wagon for his final journey on British soil, and while the men were too capable and intimidating for Wickham to make a bid for his freedom, that did not still Wickham's tongue. It was no trouble to ignore him as Wickham should have known—what they had told him in that jail cell was no less than the truth.

"Well, Darcy?" asked Fitzwilliam when they entered the carriage that was to precede the wagon to the city. "How do you feel about this business now?"

"Very little, in fact," replied Darcy, knowing his cousin was looking for any hint of regret. "Wickham has been a millstone around my family's neck for so long that the prospect of being free of him is strange. That does not make it any less welcome, of course, but it is still unfamiliar."

"Is that all?" pressed Fitzwilliam.

"If you are asking whether I have any regrets, you know I do. Those regrets, however, are not for anything other than what I might have done to curb Wickham. I might have informed my father of his character, or I might even have done something about him after my father's passing. That does not change Wickham's culpability for making the choices that led him to this end."

Fitzwilliam regarded him and offered a slow nod. "Good. Based on your character, Darcy, it would not surprise me if you had taken this more to heart and blamed yourself."

"Not at all," snorted Darcy at the very notion. "There is only one place to lay the blame—it is not my cross to bear, nor are the consequences. Wickham may learn something from his experiences in the coming years."

"If I know him—and I do—he will learn nothing," said Fitzwilliam.

"Then that too will be on his own head."

Fitzwilliam fell silent then, allowing Darcy to sink into his thoughts. He was pensive, for while he was being entirely truthful, a certain miasma of regret lingered about Darcy's mind. Darcy's father had possessed high hopes for Wickham's future and had provided for him with that in mind. Wherever he was, Darcy knew his father was not happy with what Wickham had become.

Would Robert Darcy have had any success in reforming Wickham had Darcy revealed all to him? Darcy was of two minds about it, for his father's attachment to Wickham had been steady, and Wickham had presented himself to the best advantage before his patron. Had Darcy persuaded his father to believe him, it was entirely possible that Wickham would have affected reformation but taken more care to hide his wrongdoing, even from Darcy. What might have happened had Wickham convinced even Darcy himself of his goodness he could not say, but the notion made him shudder. With such advantages, Wickham might have had the Darcy family at his mercy—he might have even spirited Georgiana away to a life with a dissipative and unfaithful husband.

It was, of course, useless to consider what might have been. It was better to focus on the here and now rather than any nebulous regrets following pathways of possibility. Darcy did not intend to allow himself such destructive thoughts, for the situation was what it was, and nothing could change it. Better to allow such things to fade into the dustbin of history along with Wickham himself.

The ship on which Wickham was to depart was a vessel built with the transportation of prisoners in mind. It was a large, two-masted ship, its lines strong rather than sleek, with what appeared to be ample cargo space. It would need to carry significant cargo for the journey, from England down the coast of France, Spain, and Africa, then around the cape—and this was not even half the distance they would travel! There were a few safe ports along the way, but they were not plentiful, and the ship may even be required to dodge raiders or pirates along the way.

The captain was a wiry man, his gait the rolling stride of a man accustomed to the motion of a ship under his feet, his men large and capable looking. It appeared they were waiting for Wickham, for the moment the carriage followed by the wagon arrived, they lost no time in taking custody of him, bustling him below decks before he could make much of a fuss. Wickham said nothing, surprising him; Darcy did not think enough of his former friend to bid him farewell forever.

"Aye, we secure all the prisoners in their cells below decks," said the captain when Fitzwilliam asked after the conditions on the ship. "We do not coddle them by any means, but we treat them well and keep them fed. The overseers in the penal colony do not appreciate sickly prisoners."

The captain seemed to think it a good jest, for he let out a hearty guffaw, which Fitzwilliam and Darcy did not match.

"Do not concern yourself about your friend," continued the captain. "He will not escape. We will be underway in a half hour."

"Very well," said Darcy. "Then I shall bid you farewell."

"Go on ahead, Darcy," said Fitzwilliam when Darcy turned to leave. "I will stay until the ship departs, for I wish to see Wickham's final departure from these shores."

"Suit yourself," said Darcy with a shrug. "How will you return to your father's house?"

"A hackney," replied Fitzwilliam. "I shall go to the barracks first and check in with my commanding officer before I return home."

"Do you mean to accompany me back to Hertfordshire tomorrow?"

Fitzwilliam scratched his chin in thought. "Perhaps I will. My general has no particular need of my services at present, and I am eager to see you flail about trying to attract the attention of the exceptional Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"I believe I already have her attention," said Darcy. "Having you underfoot might seriously hamper my chances of persuading her to my suit."

"It may be as you say," said Fitzwilliam, chuckling while shaking his head. "But someone must see to your interests and repair the mistakes you will inevitably make. If I do not go, I must rely on Lady Catherine to take up the role; it is one I am certain does not suit her."

Darcy shook his head at his cousin's irreverence, brought on by his elation at seeing Wickham finally pay the price for his sins. "Then I will take your glib answer as a desire to accompany us. I mean to leave early tomorrow morning; if you are not there when we depart, we shall leave without you."

"I will be there a half hour before you leave," assured Fitzwilliam.

Then he flipped Darcy a jaunty salute and returned his attention to the ship, while Darcy entered his carriage for the journey to his house, already considering how much he would miss being in Miss Elizabeth's company that evening. It did not take long, and Darcy saw none of it, for he was engaged in considering Miss Elizabeth's many perfections and the great fortune of obtaining another chance to garner her approval. Darcy found his sister waiting there for him, and her demeanor was not anything he had seen from her in many months.

"Brother!" exclaimed she when he stepped into the room.

Rising from the chair in which she had been sitting next to Mrs. Annesley, she threw herself into his arms, babbling the entire time.

"How wonderful that you have come! Are we to leave at once for Hertfordshire? Shall you introduce me to the young ladies of your acquaintance? How soon shall I be in their company?"

Then she paled and gasped: "How am I to know what to say?"

"This is a fine to do, Georgiana," said Darcy, amused at her mixed excitement and consternation. "If you give into so many conflicting emotions, I know not how you will manage."

When Georgiana fixed with an unamused look, Darcy could not help but laugh. "Do not concern yourself, dearest, for knowing what to say. I am certain these ladies will be as eager to make your acquaintance as you will be to make theirs. Three of them never struggle to express themselves in my experience, and the other two are equally eager to know you."

"Oh, that is excellent!" Georgiana regarded him with some asperity. "Why did you not introduce me to them in the autumn? I would have come to Hertfordshire had you asked and braved anything Miss Bingley could do to intimidate me."

Miss Bingley was an objectionable subject and one of which Darcy did not wish to speak. "For several reasons, some of which pertain to the events of these past days. Come, let us sit and I shall tell you all."

Georgiana turned pale, and she exclaimed: "Of course! How thoughtless it was of me to have forgotten of the reason for your journey!"

"Not at all, Georgiana," said Darcy, guiding her back to her chair. "I did not speak of it in my letter, for I did not wish to relate such news by post. We did retrieve Anne, though it was not by the means we predicted. The matter concerns the family of young ladies you are desperate to meet on the strength of a single letter from your astonished brother."

"Then do not hesitate to inform me, William!" cried Georgiana. "I am afire with curiosity."

Darcy related the events of the past days to her eager ears, paying close attention to Miss Elizabeth's actions in assisting Anne, Wickham's deeds and attempt to rescue his plan, and his departure that very morning on a ship bound for the other side of the world. Georgiana listened intently to his account, exclaiming her surprise in some places, and nodded her satisfaction in others. When Darcy finished, she nodded her understanding.

"I am happy Mr. Wickham will never bother us again, for he is a most odious man. To think he would try abduction when his initial plan failed; the hubris he displayed is quite shocking!"

"And far greater than I had ever expected of him, to own the truth," said Darcy. "Wickham has rarely acted unless he considered the odds in his favor overwhelming." Darcy turned a smile on his sister. "If you recall, he did not approach you until he thought I was far away, and he had a confederate to advance his schemes."

Georgiana huffed in disdain. "Yes, I remember it well, and I take your point.

"Enough of Mr. Wickham. Miss Elizabeth Bennet's actions are quite extraordinary! I think it beyond expectation for most to offer any support, to say nothing of the extent to which she acted on Anne's behalf."

"With that, I cannot agree more," said Darcy. "Anne now considers her a friend, and even Lady Catherine appears to approve of her."

Darcy laughed and added: "Lady Catherine, of course, claims she is far too lively, but our cantankerous aunt can never allow praise of another to pass without offering a contrary opinion."

"That is another thing!" exclaimed Georgiana. "That Anne would talk to her mother in such a way is beyond my experience of her."

"It is," agreed Darcy. "It has taken many years, but Anne has finally exerted her independence. Lady Catherine did not like it, but she had no choice but to retreat."

"That is a relief. You never wished to marry Anne."

"And she did not wish to marry me. I habitually keep my distance from her for obvious reasons, but we have spoken enough to tell me that much."

"Then what do you suppose will happen?"

"Lady Catherine will grouse and protest, but I believe she understands she was too protective of Anne. For the moment, I cannot imagine Anne has any interest in taking up the management of Rosings and will allow her mother to do so in her stead. Anne also wishes to stay in Hertfordshire, and Bingley has no objection to hosting her."

Georgiana was smiling at him, amused and knowing all at once. "It seems to me, Brother, that you like Miss Elizabeth. This business is greater evidence than even when Cousin Anthony revealed your secret last week. Can you deny it?"

"I have no wish to deny it," replied Darcy, deciding she deserved to know. "There were times early in our acquaintance that we disagreed and misunderstood each other, but we have resolved our differences."

"Do you mean to propose to her?"

It was far blunter a question than Darcy had thought her capable of asking. Again, there was no reason to dissemble, and Darcy did not attempt it.

"If she will have me, I am eager to provoke her good opinion and have her as my wife."

Georgiana clapped her hands with glee. "I shall have a sister!"

"Of course," drawled Darcy, "that is the important part."

"That you will have a wife and maybe an heir before long I understand," sniffed Georgiana. "But to me, having a sister is far more important than the succession of Pemberley."

"Yes, I suppose it is," replied Darcy.

"Miss Bingley will be fit to be tied," giggled Georgiana.

Darcy shook his head, recalling his confrontation with that lady and the rebuke he offered her. His sister must have seen something of it, for she regarded him, her expression demanding.

"Now that I think on it, did Mr. Bingley not say he sent his family to the north?"

"He did, but they did not go," replied Darcy. "Miss Bingley does not wish her brother to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet's sister, and she came to stop it. As she is aware of my interest in Miss Elizabeth, that must be an equally important consideration."

"Far more important!" said Georgiana. "Then I must endure Miss Bingley at Netherfield, and so must you."

"Matters have... changed to a certain extent on that score, though I left too soon to witness the consequences."

"Oh?" asked Georgiana.

Sighing, and knowing it had not been his finest moment, Darcy related the confrontation with Miss Bingley, not stinting in explaining exactly what he had said to her. Georgiana, knowing his distaste for her behavior, nodded in satisfaction, but was no less than surprised he had been so open as to say such things to her.

"I might not have expected it, Brother. You endured her for three years now and never offered a word of complaint."

"That is not quite accurate," was Darcy's wry reply. "I often complained, but I said nothing to her."

"Then she must have truly offended you."

"My annoyance has been growing, especially since last autumn." Darcy paused, wondering if he should reveal the reason for it, then decided to trust her. "If I am honest, I think I can date it from the time that I made Miss Elizabeth's acquaintance and felt some attraction for her."

Georgiana regarded him for some moments before she nodded. "Yes, I can see how that would change your perspective. To withstand her when you had no intentions toward any woman would not be difficult. Doing the same when you found a woman you admire would be onerous."

"Especially since Miss Bingley knew of my attraction, and through my admission, no less! At a party we attended in the autumn, I spoke of it in a moment of inattention. Thereafter, Miss Bingley's treatment of Miss Elizabeth deteriorated, nor did she scruple to avoid trying to sink Miss Elizabeth's character in my estimation."

"That could not have been comfortable," said Georgiana.

"At least Miss Bingley possesses some discretion. She disparaged her in my company alone, and while she considered Miss Elizabeth a rival, she did not openly disdain her. Even if she had, I have every confidence in Miss Elizabeth's ability to defend herself."

Georgiana smiled. "The more you speak of her, the more eager I become to make her acquaintance."

"She is the most excellent woman I know," averred Darcy. "She is intelligent, poised, witty, kind, happy, caring, and a whole host of other adjectives that I cannot bring to mind at the moment. When you make her acquaintance, you will understand."

"Then we must visit her tomorrow," said Georgiana. "I shall not be satisfied until I become acquainted with this paragon.

"But you will dominate all her attention, so I must know about her sisters!"

Darcy chuckled. "I do not think Miss Elizabeth would allow me to keep her attention when she is equally impatient to make your acquaintance. But I shall oblige you.

"Her elder sister, Miss Jane Bennet, is Bingley's love. While she is sweetness personified, Bingley will hoard her time far more than I ever will her sister. As for her younger sisters, the next youngest, Mary Bennet, is a devotee of the pianoforte, though I do not consider her performance so fine as yours. The youngest sisters are lively, but I suspect are too much so for their own good."

"Then I shall be happy to make their acquaintance, but not emulate them," said Georgiana.

"That would be for the best."

"Very well, Brother. I hope you plan to depart early enough tomorrow to allow us to visit."

"I do," replied Darcy. "Fitzwilliam has indicated a desire to return to Hertfordshire with us. When I departed from the docks, I left him in no doubt he must be here before we depart, or we will leave without him."

"Good!" cried Georgiana. "Let nothing stand in the way of my new acquaintances!"

Darcy laughed with his sister and then left to change out of his travel wear. Snell remained at Netherfield, as Darcy could manage himself for one night. Already, his sister's enthusiasm for the morrow's return enhanced his own, until he felt himself as excited as she. Enjoy Georgiana's company though he did, Darcy knew the evening to come would be interminable.