Page 11 of Body and Soul (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #8)

Chapter Eleven

December 5, 1811 Meryton Fanny

F anny walked to Meryton alone. She found she enjoyed going out every day, especially in a younger body that did not ache intensely. Mary and Jane had declined accompanying her, claiming it was far too cold to venture out of doors. Wrapped in her pelisse and cloak, Fanny barely felt the chill in the air. She hummed as she walked, swinging her basket back and forth.

Her design was to purchase a length of pale yellow ribbon for Mary. Her daughter had a plain blue gown, and she had convinced Mary that it needed a little trimming. The yellow would wash out Mary’s complexion if the entire gown were of that color, but a little on the sleeves and hem would be just the thing. With Jane’s attention occupied by Mr. Bingley, Fanny eagerly spent more time with the middle Bennet sister, hoping to form a bond with her.

Elizabeth, acting as Mrs. Bennet, had joined the pair every day, forming a new bond with her mother and next youngest sister. She commented here and there on their conversations and complimented Mary’s new hairstyle—another change attributed to Fanny’s growing relationship with the most forgotten sister. Kitty joined in every so often. She sulked a lot, though she dared not voice her boredom or displeasure aloud. She missed Lydia, Fanny knew, but her behavior had already improved after a short time out of her younger sister's company.

They had hired a governess. The lady, a Miss Hortense Holt, was no simpering miss. She was thirty if she was a day, stood nearly six feet tall, and had a broader figure than any lady Fanny had ever seen. She was perfect. Able to handle Lydia with ease, she had moved into the governess’s quarters and begun her instruction.

“We do not condone violence,” Elizabeth informed the lady. “Strict you may be, but do not strike my daughter.”

“Yes, madam. I like to implement positive reinforcement strategies.” Miss Holt nodded crisply.

Fanny worried Lydia would not do well, but within a few days, she had settled into a routine. Kitty joined her sister for lessons in deportment and household management in the afternoon. Being around Lydia again proved a trial, but soon she decided little rewards were worth attempting to behave. For the first time in her life, she did not follow along after her sister.

Fanny came to the haberdashery and entered. She walked amongst the ribbons, running a finger down the silken spools. She had only a little pin money. Elizabeth had given her some coin rather than have her mother raid her saved funds. It would be enough for several yards if Fanny chose wisely.

“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.” Trained now to respond to that name, she turned to see who greeted her.

Mr. Wickham approached, his handsome countenance wreathed in a wide smile. “How do you do, sir?” she asked, struggling not to bat her eyelashes. Oh, but he was a handsome man. It was a pity he had no money.

“Not at all well. A certain gentleman has returned to the area!” He moaned dramatically. Fanny frowned. He spoke of Mr. Darcy, of course. She had overheard Maria Lucas telling Kitty that the gentleman had been spreading tales since Mr. Darcy left Netherfield. People readily accepted them as fact. The area’s general disapproval of Mr. Darcy made it easy to believe the talk.

Fanny was not sure what she believed. The Mr. Darcy who visited with Mr. Bingley, while not overly loquacious, did not seem as disdainful. Perhaps it was because she knew he looked at Elizabeth with admiration.

“I am sorry Mr. Darcy’s return has discomposed you,” she said neutrally. She loved to gossip, but she would not risk Jane losing Mr. Bingley again by upsetting his friend.

“You are everything good. I fear he will attempt to ruin my happy situation. Especially now that I am courting Miss King.” He grinned, looking rather proud of himself.

“Miss King?” She had not heard that the young lady and Mr. Wickham had formed an attachment.

“Yes! We are very happy. Her fortune would see me able to resign or sell my commission! We would live in her father’s house, of course. It is hers now.”

It all sounded very mercenary. Miss King had a fortune? When had that come about? And though she tried to be kinder, even in her thoughts, Miss King was a freckled thing, thin as a rail and with wild red hair. She did not seem to be the sort of lady Mr. Wickham would pursue. Unless she had a fortune, her conscience whispered.

Had not Mrs. Bennet been very similar? Who cares what a man thinks, looks like, or acts like? If he wore breeches and had an income, he was good enough for one of her girls. Until Mr. Collins, she had believed just that.

“I wish you the best with Miss King,” she said, hoping the cheerful tone she employed masked her confusion. All these introspections were growing wearisome. Could she not have one day where she could go about her business as if her whole world had not been jumbled?

He continued to speak of Miss King’s many attractions whilst Fanny browsed. Finally, she found a ribbon she could afford. It was a shade of buttery yellow and would work perfectly for the blue gown. Nodding, she brought the spool to the clerk and requested four yards. Mr. Wickham continued to ramble in the background.

After purchasing her ribbon and tucking it into her reticule, she bid Mr. Wickham a good day and left.

“Perhaps I can walk you home?” Mr. Wickham offered.

“No thank you,” she replied. “I would not keep you from your tasks.”

“Do not be so dismissive,” he cajoled. “Are you hurt that I have turned my attentions elsewhere? A man must have something to live on, Miss Elizabeth.”

Had Mr. Wickham been paying Elizabeth attention? How had she not noticed? Fanny had likely been far too focused on Jane and Mr. Bingley. “I am not at all offended,” she assured him. “I know you have a great many responsibilities. Pray, allow me to depart so you can see to them.”

He grinned, looking relieved. “I do hope we can continue being friends,” he said with great feeling. He scooped up her hand and caressed it with his thumb.

A single, innocent lady might have misconstrued his words and taken them at face value, but Fanny was no na?ve miss. She stiffened and pulled her hand away. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Wickham,” she said. A great displeasure. Is this the sort of man I have been allowing my daughters to consort with? If he did not mean his words as he said them, then I shall eat my bonnet. Had she not said the same thing recently? If her perceptions continued to be overturned, she would be required to consume every bonnet in the house!

She left the haberdashery once again, chastising herself for her lack of parental oversight. Mr. Wickham seemed to be the type of man to take advantage of unexpecting ladies. Miss King did not deserve that.

Fanny was halfway to Longbourn when she encountered Mr. Darcy. He greeted her and dismounted, leading his horse toward her. “Good day, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. He seemed almost cheerful, though his small smile made his eyes twinkle. “How do you do?”

“I am well, sir.” She frowned, recalling her encounter with Mr. Wickham. Impulsively, she said, “In truth, I am a bit discomposed.” Quickly she described the encounter and her impressions, hoping he would give her some insight, and praying she was mistaken.

“You judged accurately, I am afraid,” Mr. Darcy said sadly. “Mr. Wickham is not an honorable man. I had hoped my words at the Netherfield Ball would alert you to that fact.”

She did not know what Elizabeth had been told, but she nodded anyway. “He cannot hide his true colors for long,” she murmured. “And he is spreading all manner of tales about you. They began after you left and spread quickly. Half of Meryton knew the story before you returned. 'How could a man of your position behave so abominably? they said. Something about it smacks of deceit, sir, and I would not see you harmed by his words.”

Mr. Darcy frowned and looked foreboding once more. Fanny remained unbothered by the look because it was not directed at her, though it might have intimidated her otherwise. She saw the wisdom of forming a friendship with Darcy on Elizabeth’s behalf. Her daughter could not act, not trapped as she was in her mother’s body. Perhaps she could convince Elizabeth to trust her enough to be courted on her behalf.

“While I appreciate your sentiments, Miss Bennet, many a wealthier gentleman has behaved in the same manner Mr. Wickham employs. I must ask—you were eager to defend him at the ball. What changed?”

She blushed, wondering what her daughter had said in defense of that reprobate. She floundered, searching for an answer. “Well,” she stuttered out, “he said a few things that made little sense. Oh, it is all so muddled in my head. I must trust my instincts, sir, and since your departure, they have declared that his faults are many.”

He turned to look at her, smiling kindly. “I can very well understand your sentiments. Wickham is adept at tying people in knots. His confusing manner often aids him in his schemes.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Fanny smiled in return. He was a very handsome man when he was not looking around disapprovingly.

“Allow me to tell you more about Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Darcy continued. “I have known him since my childhood. His father came to be steward of Pemberley when I was seven. I had never felt more fortunate, for George Wickham and I were of an age and I had no brothers or sisters to play with.”

He proceeded to tell Fanny about his shared history with Mr. Wickham, growing sadder as he progressed. She learned the militiaman had refused the promised living and accepted compensation for signing all present and future claims to it away. And then he returned, demanding it when it came available.

“But that is not the worst of it,” Mr. Darcy said quietly. “Last summer, he betrayed me and my family—my father’s memory—in the worst manner possible. He conspired with a trusted servant to persuade my sister to elope.”

Fanny gasped. Even she was not ignorant of the implications. “I take it he failed.”

“Thankfully, yes. I came to see her a few days before their intended departure, wishing to surprise her. Instead of a joyful reunion, she tearfully told me everything. I sent Wickham away after ensuring he knew he would never see a penny of Georgiana’s dowry. Afterwards, I dismissed the traitorous servant without reference.”

Fanny’s motherly instincts longed to hold Miss Darcy and tell her that none of the blame rested on her shoulders. “The poor dear. What an awful thing to have been treated so abominably!” she exclaimed, smiling tremulously at her companion. “I thank you for trusting me, sir,” she said. “And I promise, I shall use my knowledge to protect my daugh—sisters.” I almost misspoke, she thought to herself. And my daughters will no longer be in company with the officers. It is not safe!

He led her to Longbourn’s gate before departing. “I must return to Netherfield to dress for dinner,” he said.

“Oh, yes!” Fanny grinned. “I had forgotten. Good afternoon, sir!” She waved him away and went inside. Yes, he was perfectly acceptable and would take excellent care of Lizzy. Now she had only to convince her stubborn daughter!

Darcy

There seemed to be nothing for it. Darcy knew after only a few more moments in Elizabeth’s company that he could not resist her siren’s call. Their conversation as they walked from Meryton to Longbourn played over in his head. Of course, Elizabeth had enough intelligence to see the holes in Wickham’s tales! And her dismay on behalf of Georgiana—they would get on very well.

Dinner that night would be at Longbourn. He tensed at the thought, not looking forward to Mrs. Bennet speaking over everyone, or the two youngest girls fighting and giggling from their seats. He would endure it all for Elizabeth, though.

Darcy lost track of his reasons for coming to Meryton soon after arriving. He hardly paid attention to Bingley and Miss Bennet, and he did not care. His friend could take care of himself. Darcy’s attention would be on Elizabeth alone.

His valet helped him bathe and change before they departed. Darcy paid more attention to his appearance, picking a dark blue waistcoat instead of his usual black. Elizabeth favored blue; many of her gowns were varying shades of the color. She also looked very well in cream and blush. She even had one dark rose gown that made her complexion glow with luminescence.

Bingley’s aunt, Mrs. Emma Bingley, had arrived the day before. She was a diminutive woman who looked as though a stiff breeze would blow her away. And then she opened her mouth and began to speak. Goodness, the lady had a lot to say! She spoke in a booming voice that did not seem as though it belonged to her, gossiping about people neither he nor Bingley had ever met, perfectly content to continue without a reply.

“Even I have relations who are difficult, Darcy,” Bingley muttered as Mrs. Nichols escorted the lady to her room. “She is my only other female relative, however, and she is better than Louisa or Caroline.” He could not disagree.

Mrs. Bennet welcomed her guests warmly with none of the usual verbosity she displayed. Darcy did not know what to think. She looked different somehow, and it took him a moment to realize it was her attire that had changed. Gone were the ribbons and lace. With the bulk removed, he could see she was still a very handsome woman. She greeted Mrs. Bingley kindly, letting her rattle away with no signs of irritation.

“Where is Miss Lydia this evening?” Mr. Bingley asked, glancing around the room.

“My youngest child is indisposed,” Mrs. Bennet said. She pursed her lips and glanced away, informing Darcy that more had happened than he had realized. Had he even seen Miss Lydia when he and Bingley had last called?

Dinner and tea afterwards continued to undo all his impressions of the Bennet family. All the girls behaved well. The dowdy one, Miss Mary, looked different. Her gown, pretty and modest, was blue with yellow trim. It flattered her and made her look less sallow. Her sour expression also seemed to have melted away, and she spoke quietly to Miss Kitty on her left. Elizabeth sat next to her mother and across from Mrs. Bingley. She looked very comfortable where she was. He swore she had expressed a strained sort of relationship with Mrs. Bennet before.

Only Mr. Bennet seemed irritated. He glowered from his end of the table, speaking a little to Bingley and Jane before turning his full attention to his meal. Why he appeared so disinclined to enjoy himself, Darcy could only guess.

The food was excellent, and he had nothing of which to complain. And after the meal, he spent one exquisite hour with his Elizabeth, speaking about Pemberley. She asked a great many questions about his estate, focusing on the surrounding landscape rather than the size of his home or the number of carriages he possessed. Knowing her to be an enthusiastic walker, he happily indulged her curiosity.

By the time he returned to Netherfield Park, he knew he was well and truly lost.