Page 14 of A Good Memory is Unpardonable (Frolic and Romance #2)
Thirteen
F itzwilliam seemed to lapse into a sort of melancholy after his cousin went away.
He is very fond of Richard, and the tide of war was never far from our consciousness in those days.
It was thought that Richard’s squadron was in no danger of immediate deployment, but one never knew.
I expect everyone who counted a soldier among their dear folk prepared for each farewell to be their last.
I have skimmed rather lightly over some events that were more momentous than one might be led to believe, by my treatment of them. They are not all consequential to the tale at hand, but perhaps a brief recounting will be appropriate here.
Mr. Collins remained a guest at Longbourn from the end of October until the first week of December, when he married my dear friend, Charlotte Lucas.
They repaired to Kent immediately after the wedding, and all of Longbourn breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Though I would miss Charlotte, I was as pleased as anyone to see them go, for I had had enough of his chasing of my unwilling sisters and his worship of his patroness, one Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
He went on about her a great deal, especially in Fitzwilliam’s company, for she is his aunt and a lady of great property.
Later, I would have cause to become well acquainted with the lady, but at the time, I cared little for my cousin’s ominous cautions regarding my friendship with Fitzwilliam.
Collins was as thick-skulled as anyone I ever knew, but somehow he must have seen something that I did not.
He was forever going on about how Fitzwilliam was destined for the finest circles, an illustrious match, and so on, and he would not cease reminding me that I ought to be pleased to settle with what I had attained by my first marriage.
Even on his wedding day, after I stood a little too near Fitzwilliam at the reception breakfast, he said, “Cousin Elizabeth, though we have not the pleasure of being more closely related by marriage, I assure you that we are by no means unconnected, and Lady Catherine would consider it her duty to take you under her wing, as it were. I feel it incumbent upon me to remind you that she is in a position to grant such little favors and recognitions that a lady of your stature may never dream of otherwise, provided she is pleased by your conduct. I would advise you not to aspire to any other connections which are surely beyond your reach.”
I recall being thunderstruck at his audacity in suggesting that I could offend someone I did not know, whose good opinion I had reason to care about.
Naturally, I understood later, for the early days of our marriage were haunted by the spectre of Lady Catherine’s Displeasure, but at the time, I simply laughed and walked away.
Another item I have scarcely mentioned is my younger sisters’ impetuous pursuit of officers.
I see now that omission was in error, so I shall attempt to remedy it.
Lydia, my youngest sister, is today happily married and the content mother of five strapping sons.
But she was not always so respectable. In those days, in fact, she was quite wild indeed.
It had been more than a year since I had left Longbourn as a bride, so I had the advantage of perspective when I considered my father’s management of his daughters.
I was his favorite, and my only true vice had been a sharp tongue, which he never bothered to correct.
However, I was troubled when I considered what else he did not correct, even after Fitzwilliam’s warning about one officer in particular.
Lieutenant Wickham was not welcomed at Longbourn again, but that did not stop my sisters from seeking his company in town.
It was about a week before Christmas, and I had taken the carriage into Meryton to look over some items I meant to purchase for the season.
It was to be an understated affair, as technically we were all still in half-mourning, but Charles wished to celebrate his first winter as a landlord in generous fashion for the tenants.
I was alone, for Jane was wanted back at Longbourn, Georgiana was painting a gift for someone—I later learned it was for me—and Caroline had declined to accompany me.
I thank Heaven for that, for what I saw when I came out of the draper’s would have ruined Lydia forever, if Caroline had learned of it.
The carriage was parked in a small alley, off the main street, because I intended to shop for a while.
When returning to it with a footman to carry my purchases, I happened to glance into the opposite alley, across the street, to see a familiar-looking pelisse wrapped in red-sleeved arms. The faces of the amorous parties were somewhat concealed, but not so wholly that I could not recognize my fifteen-year-old sister and Lieutenant Wickham.
My dismay cannot be put down in words. In the blink of an eye, I saw the ruin of my remaining sisters—of Jane, who had fallen boots over petticoat for Charles, who I had finally decided was deserving of her; of Mary, for whom virtue was nearly a religion; of Kitty, whose only hope of a respectable future was to not follow in our younger sister’s footsteps.
There was little I could do, short of marching across the street to break up the sordid scene, and I justly feared drawing even more attention to Lydia’s indiscretion.
I stood frozen for a moment, sick and panicked, wishing to Heaven for inspiration or luck. And even as my prayers left my lips, both arrived at once.
Fitzwilliam was just departing the tavern next door.
The oddity of it never struck me until later, for he drinks but sparingly and never in a public house, but there he was, all the same.
He looked grim, glancing neither to the right nor the left and set out with purposeful strides for the corner.
I nearly called out to him, hoping to distract him from seeing what I could not unsee, but I was too late.
In less than a second, he snapped his arm around the corner and caught Mr. Wickham by the lapels.
The latter sputtered and acted very much put out. Then Lydia started to wail. I was near enough to hear what was said, but only because I was paying attention. To my eternal gratitude, it was quite a cold day, and the streets were not crowded. No one else seemed to notice them.
“Miss Lydia,” Fitzwilliam said kindly, “I do apologize for upsetting you. Please know that it was most unwillingly done, but this man is not worthy of you.”
“What do you know?” Lydia harrumphed. “I have it on good authority that you cheated him out of a fortune, Mr. Darcy!”
I saw Fitzwilliam’s shoulders lift in a long-suffering sigh. Then he shot a piercing glare at Mr. Wickham.
“Well, now,” he stammered, “I suppose that is not… not precisely true, Darcy old boy.” He licked his lips and looked at Lydia again. “Perhaps I did embellish here and there.”
“Miss Lydia, if you would be so kind, I have business with the lieutenant here which may distress you. If you would grant us but a moment, please allow me to present you a small token of my appreciation.” He extended something to her, and I saw her figure straighten.
“Perhaps you would like a new winter bonnet?”
“Well!” she exclaimed. “I suppose you are not half so bad as I had thought. I will be back straightaway, of course. What of it, my dear Wickham? I think something with a bright green ribbon under my cheek would be so very jolly.”
Lydia flounced away, and I stepped back around the carriage door, not desiring that she should see me and come over. I was too painfully interested in what Fitzwilliam had to say to Mr. Wickham.
“I suppose you mean to run me out of the country,” accused the unhappy lieutenant. “What took you so long, Darcy?”
“The choice of where to go is yours. I will merely provide the means.”
Wickham leaned against the wall. “How do you intend to do that?”
“Your shopkeeper’s debts in Meryton are paid, and I am willing to arrange for any debts of honor you have incurred while here.
In exchange for this, you will repair to London immediately and present yourself to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
He will handle the purchasing of a commission into the Regulars, in the available regiment of your choice. ”
Mr. Wickham was silent, then; “And if I refuse?”
“I will hold your debts.”
The gasp of dread was audible even from where I stood.
“I see. You really went out of your way this time, Darcy. Why now? I have not breathed a word about our little disagreement last summer. One might think I was getting a little too close to your turf again. Is that it? I was having a bit of fun with that Bennet chit, and you have your eye on the Bingley widow?”
My spine prickled, and I stopped breathing, dying to know how he would answer.
Of course, he would admit to no such thing, even if it were true…
even if I longed for it to be true. Why would he expose himself to the contempt of a man he already despised just to claim an interest in a woman who was not his social equal?
Even if he did nurse such a sentiment, no good could come from him confessing it.
“I do not profess to be worthy of Elizabeth Bingley,” Fitzwilliam answered tightly. “But I ever did win her for my bride, would you truly wish to have me as a brother-in-law? For I assure you, I would not suffer you to ruin that girl and again escape the demands of honor.”
I do not remember anything after that. There were a few words about arrangements, a threat or two, then Fitzwilliam fairly chased Mr. Wickham from the alley so the rascal would not be there when Lydia came back.
Then he gave a jerk of his hat, as if satisfied in a deed finally accomplished, and walked up the street.
He never saw me, standing behind the door of the carriage, with my heart in my throat and my eyes full of tears.
He had done this for me! Bearing all the mortification of hunting down Mr. Wickham’s debts, as though he were responsible for the man, and potentially opening the door to gossip about why the powerful Mr. Darcy would want to hush up and send away the winsome lieutenant—he had done it to protect my sister and others, and to please me!
I was sure of it! If it had been merely the “right thing to do,” he would not have spoken about me as he had…
but speak he did, and I was determined to say a few words of my own.
As soon as I could get him alone.