Page 48 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
10 th April, 1812
Hunsford Parsonage, Kent
“I cannot understand why Miss Bennet has not yet returned,” Mr. Collins stated fretfully. “If you like, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I can send a servant to recall her to the parsonage.”
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam shook his head with good humor. “There is no need, Mr. Collins. I well know how much Miss Bennet enjoys her rambles, especially this time of year when Rosings Park is so beautiful.”
“Indeed, it is,” his host returned with a near moan of enthusiasm. “Everything is as perfect as it possibly can be on this great estate, though that is no surprise given the wisdom and munificence of your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“Indeed,” the Colonel replied drily, and decided he was quite fatigued with the ecstasies of the foolish parson, Mr. Collins. He rose to his feet and bowed to Mrs. Charlotte Collins and her younger sister, Miss Maria Lucas. “I will take my leave of you all, and I wish you a good journey back to Hertfordshire, Miss Lucas.”
The girl giggled nervously and curtsied, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, with a last smile to the ladies, strolled out of the parsonage and down the lane toward the grand manse of Rosings. He was aware of a profound sense of disappointment, which he was wise enough to realize was dangerous. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was pretty and spirited and intelligent, but she was also poor. The Colonel knew himself well enough to realize he must marry for money, as his habits of expense required substantial sums for a happy life. If Miss Bennet had been an heiress, he would have been tempted to offer for her, but she was not. Thus, while he regretted missing a last glimpse of her bright smile, it was probably better that he go away before his genuine attraction to the lady enticed him too far.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam!”
He jerked in surprise and turned to discover that Miss Bennet herself was standing a few yards off the road to Rosings under a tall and spreading oak tree. She looked thoroughly ruffled with heightened color and oddly bright eyes. It reminded him of the day before, when he and Miss Bennet had indulged in a rather peculiar conversation regarding his cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and Darcy’s friend, Mr. Charles Bingley.
“Yes, Miss Bennet?” he inquired, bowing with a mixture of respect and unease.
“Would you be so kind as to join me under this tree?” the girl inquired, her tone brittle. “I do not wish my cousin, Mr. Collins, to spy me from the windows of the parsonage.”
Fitzwilliam suppressed a desire to flee. There was something of import happening, and while he was not a coward, he disliked fusses. However, he could not in good conscience say no to a lady.
He therefore joined the young woman under the shady branches of the oak. Up close, it was even more obvious that Miss Bennet was distressed; her eyes were puffy, and he thought he could see, on the dewy curves of her cheeks, faint signs of tears.
“I must ask of you a great favor, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth informed him bluntly. “Would you do me the kindness of reading this letter?”
Richard Fitzwilliam shivered slightly in the warm breezes. A letter was dangerous, especially if it was some kind of ... blackmail? Threat?
“May I ask who it is from?” he inquired cautiously. “I would not care to disdain the conventions regarding private correspondence.”
Elizabeth released a mirthless chuckle. “The letter is from Mr. Darcy to me, Colonel, and he wrote it last night and handed it to me a few hours ago. The conventions have already been violated. He told me that I could consult you on one issue, and I wish to do so, but please, first, read the letter.”
Richard had never really believed that one’s hair could stand on end. He had been in the heat of battle, under fire from French muskets, and his hair had remained firmly in place. Now, though, at these words, his heart quailed within him and yes, he felt an odd twitching on his scalp. Darcy had written to Miss Bennet? Was his cousin mad? A gentleman did not write to a lady unless they were related or engaged or married. Darcy must know, of all people, that he risked being forced into an unwanted marriage through such a dangerous action.
She was holding out the letter toward him and reluctantly, as if it were a poisonous snake, he took it in his gloved hands, opened it, and cast his eyes down the first paragraph, which only supported his initial feelings of unease. The Colonel felt faint for a moment and his fair companion’s countenance actually swam slightly before he collected himself.
“Am I to assume,” he inquired in a definitely shaking tone, “that my cousin Darcy proposed marriage to you?”
“Yes,” the girl asserted, lifting her chin.
“And you ... you rejected him?” the Colonel returned in awe. No one could possibly turn down an offer of marriage from Fitzwilliam Darcy, he of the vast estate of Pemberley and the ten thousand pounds a year. It was entirely impossible.
“Yes,” she continued haughtily, and then her countenance crumpled a little, “apparently partially based on false information, I fear. Not that I would marry Mr. Darcy, but my manner of rejecting him was … was most unkind. Pray, read on, sir.”
The colonel read on with growing misery, until he lifted his horrified countenance to Elizabeth and let out a deep groan like that of a dying cow.
“I must apologize,” he declared hoarsely. “I had absolutely no idea in the world that it was your older sister with whom Mr. Bingley was so enamored. You have every reason to be angry at me for my careless speech.”
“I am not angry at you, Colonel,” the lady replied frostily. “I am enraged with Mr. Darcy. Jane genuinely loved Mr. Bingley, and your cousin tore him away from her, to leave her, the sweetest lady in the world, subject to the gossip and contempt of our neighbors.”
Richard Fitzwilliam winced openly, but Elizabeth was not done. “Nonetheless, your cousin is correct that my family ... my family’s behavior is greatly wanting in propriety. In any case, this is only peripheral to my main concern, which is in the next section of the document. Please continue, sir.”
The Colonel did so, eagerly and fearfully. He was already reeling from the information contained within the letter – that Darcy had proposed to Elizabeth Bennet, been rejected, and had been the author of the eldest Miss Bennet’s broken relationship with Mr. Bingley.
Now, no, it could not be that Darcy would mention ... surely not...
He read onward, his eyes racing down the pages, flabbergasted once again, astonished that Darcy had been bold enough to include Georgiana’s near disaster in a letter, no less. If this missive should fall into the wrong hands…
“I do trust you will take every care to keep this letter private,” he said gravely, looking into Miss Bennet’s fine brown eyes.
“Because of Miss Darcy,” she murmured. “Of course I will. Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, is it indeed true? Is Mr. George Wickham so vile a man that he would seek to draw a fifteen-year-old girl into a scandalous marriage?”
The military man’s hands clenched purposefully, and he found himself pacing back and forth under the tree. “It is indeed entirely true, Miss Bennet. Wickham is an excrescence on the earth. He is entirely selfish, and will harm anyone, even the daughter of his own godfather, to fuel his extravagant and profligate lifestyle.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled and a few salty droplets slid down her cheeks. “I believe you, Colonel. I dislike Mr. Darcy exceedingly, but he would not falsely say such a thing about his own sister. I quite despise myself. I have long prided myself on my own discernment, but it seems I am, in reality, a fool, prejudiced by an early slight on the part of your cousin, and enthralled with Mr. Wickham’s pleasing countenance and manners.”
“Wickham is indeed blessed with a charming bearing and a handsome face and form,” the colonel replied solemnly. “You are not the first woman, or man, for that matter, to be deceived. Indeed, my uncle Darcy could never see that underneath that pleasing countenance was the soul of a devil. He defended Wickham until the very end. But come, there is another matter which has made me intensely curious. What did my cousin do to turn you against him from the beginning?”
Elizabeth sighed deeply and miserably. “It was pride, in truth. On the very day we met, at an assembly in Meryton, Mr. Darcy spoke loudly within my hearing, declaring that while my eldest sister is very beautiful, I myself was ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to dance with’ and furthermore that he was ‘in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.’ I confess I was most displeased with that speech.”
Her companion gazed at her with awe. “I should imagine so. Did Darcy truly say that within your hearing?”
“Yes.”
“And then he offered marriage to you last night?”
“Yes, and in most ... most repugnant terms! He declared that he liked me against his will, his reason, and even his character. I have now had the honor of receiving two offers of marriage, and I declare that Mr. Collins’s, while entirely stupid, was less insulting than Mr. Darcy’s. Nonetheless, many of my accusations against your cousin were based on falsehoods, and I must regret that.”
The colonel shook his head in exasperation. “My dear Miss Bennet, I apologize on behalf of my cousin. Darcy is a fine man, he truly is, but also an idiot at times. I am most grieved that he insulted you both last autumn and yesterday evening, especially given that he should have been assuring you of his love and commitment. But come, I must learn more about Mr. Wickham, whom I would gladly stab through the heart for what he did to my cousin Miss Darcy last summer at Ramsgate. How did it come to pass that you met the rogue?”
“He is a lieutenant in a militia regiment under the command of Colonel Forster, sir, and the regiment is stationed in Meryton until at least the summer.”
Richard Fitzwilliam felt as if his head had been struck by a French mortar. “You are saying that George Wickham is in Hertfordshire? Now?”
“Yes, now,” the girl replied patiently. “As I said, he is a member of the militia.”
Fitzwilliam’s face flushed, and he gnashed his teeth so fiercely that Elizabeth could hear the grinding noise. “Please come with me, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth frowned and inquired, “Where are we going?”
“To Rosings, to track down Darcy.”
“Oh no, Colonel! Please, Mr. Darcy will not want to see me, and I do not wish to see him.”
“It matters not,” the colonel declared sternly. “I am quite enraged that Darcy knew where Wickham had settled and failed to deal with the man appropriately, and you must be part of this conversation, for your own sake. You have younger sisters and friends, do you not?
Elizabeth paled in distress. “I do, of course, but what of it?”
“Do you not see? Wickham is a danger to them all!”
“We are none of us heiresses, sir, save for a Miss King of my acquaintance, whom Mr. Wickham was pursuing when I left Hertfordshire.”
“Did she recently come into money?” the colonel asked shrewdly.
Elizabeth bit her lip. “I fear so. She inherited ten thousand pounds a few months ago when her father died.”
“Well, Wickham has come down in his ambitions if he is content with a mere ten thousand,” the military man declared cynically. “But it will not do, Miss Bennet. I am determined that no woman be tied to the reprobate, or at least not without attempting to warn the young lady of his foul character.”
Elizabeth, who already felt quite shaken by the events of the last two days, now had the sensation of being trapped on a carriage pulled by runaway horses. “What can we do?”
“I do not know,” the other replied as they reached one of the side doors of Rosings, “but we will find some way to remove that disgusting excuse of a man from decent society.”