Page 17

Darcy House Study - Darcy

D arcy sat at his desk, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the scattered papers before him. The house was quiet, the late hour ensuring his privacy as he penned his brief note.

His fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on the desk as he considered his words.

The evening’s events played through his mind - Elizabeth’s laughter at his cousin’s jokes, the way she had avoided his gaze across the dinner table, how she had slipped away whenever he approached her in the drawing room.

Richard’s obvious interest in her had not escaped his notice either.

Perhaps it would be better to keep it simple. Yes, that would be best.

Georgiana had long since gone to bed and he knew he should follow her example. It was to be a busy day and he needed his sleep.

* * *

Friday 10th of January 1812

Gracechurch Street - Elizabeth

The morning dawned grey and cold, a fitting reflection of the sombre mood that had settled over the house in Gracechurch Street. As Elizabeth descended the stairs, the usual morning bustle seemed muted, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

Elizabeth’s thoughts were a whirlwind as she prepared for the day, the events of last night’s dinner party replaying in her mind. Mr Darcy’s words echoed in her ears, making it difficult to focus on the mundane tasks before her.

Mr Bingley, his sisters, Mr Darcy and his sister called for them the next morning as they were all to call on the Middletons.

Elizabeth had resolved the evening before to pay close attention to whatever Mr Darcy said to her, however, he kept his distance from her. Instead he was standing by himself.

Mr Middleton was a close friend of Mr Bingley’s, and that found him to be almost as good humoured as Mr Bingley, but a few years older.

Mrs Middleton was a very polite woman with very dark colouring, she spoke with a heavy Polish accent.

Mr Middleton had met her when he was travelling the continent some years before.

Her English was not as good as it could have been and every now and then she was forced to say something to her husband in Polish, which he would then translate for the rest of the room.

Mrs Middleton smiled a great deal but clearly could understand little of what was being said. Elizabeth felt sorry for her as it must have been very frustrating to be in company and not be able to understand what was being said or to make yourself understood.

Miss Bingley said that she knew a little Polish and tried valiantly to speak to Mrs Middleton but her smile became even more artificial.

Mr Middleton laughed loudly, “I think Miss Bingley you need to work on your accent a little more. It is quite hard to understand what you are trying to say at the moment.”

Miss Bingley blushed scarlet and made no further attempt to speak Polish. However it was discovered that all of the ladies could speak a little French, so the rest of the visit was spent on a more level footing. Mrs Middleton seemed very pleased by the effort on their side to speak to her.

Elizabeth had been expecting Mr Darcy to speak to her at some point during the visit, however she was disappointed. All he had said to her so far was, “Good morning.”

The visit ended shortly after and as they were exiting the carriage back at Gracechurch Street.

Elizabeth found herself unexpectedly assisted by Mr Darcy.

His hand, warm and steady, grasped hers as she descended from the carriage.

In that brief moment of contact, she felt him press something into her palm - a small, folded piece of paper.

Their eyes met for a fleeting second, his gaze intense and unreadable, before he stepped back, allowing her mother to fuss over her.

Elizabeth’s heart raced as she closed her fingers around the paper, acutely aware of its presence. She managed to maintain her composure, smiling and bidding farewell to Mr Bingley and his sisters, all the while conscious of the weight of Mr Darcy’s note in her hand.

As they entered the house, Elizabeth was grateful for the flurry of activity - coats being removed, Jane’s quiet comments about the evening, and her mother’s excited chatter. It provided the perfect cover for her to slip away, murmuring something about freshening up.

Once safely in the privacy of her room, Elizabeth closed the door and leaned against it, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

With trembling fingers, she unfolded the paper, smoothing out its creases.

The note was brief, more a line than a proper missive, but the sight of Mr Darcy’s bold handwriting made her pulse quicken anew.

Meet me outside at 2 o’clock. FD

With a little difficulty and with some help from Jane, Elizabeth managed to leave the house on her own just before two o’clock.

The air was cold, it was overcast and was threatening to snow.

She was glad that she had dressed warmly.

She looked up and down the street but could not see him anywhere so she walked towards Lower Thames Street.

She saw him then walking towards her. She stopped and waited for him.

“Miss Bennet.” He greeted her.

“Mr Darcy.”

“Shall we walk this way together?”

They walked next to each other, neither saying anything. Elizabeth was waiting for him to speak first. At last he did.

“Miss Bennet,” his voice was slightly unsteady. “You have met my sister Georgiana. What do you think of her?”

“I think she is a sweet, very shy young lady.” She said, wondering where he was going with this.

“I am glad you think so,” He said with a smile, then he turned serious.

“She is more than ten years my junior, she was left to the guardianship of Colonel Fitzwilliam and myself, after my father’s death five years ago.

About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in town; and last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate.

” He hesitated then, seeming unsure how to continue.

“Mr Darcy, I do not understand why you are telling me this?” Elizabeth said, whatever she had been expecting him to say it was not this.

“Please, Miss Bennet, let me finish and then you will understand when I have explained.” He spoke very gently but there was a determination in his voice she had never heard before.

“I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and I had resolved never to disclose it to any human being. However, I feel that it is necessary to share with you. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your discretion?” He waited for her to answer.

He was looking directly into her eyes as if searching for something.

She nodded, “Of course sir, if you wish it.”

He continued with bitterness in his voice, “Mr Wickham also went to Ramsgate, undoubtedly by design.” She started at Mr Wickham’s name She had thought that he would never mention Mr Wickham’s name.

“There was a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs Younge, the lady in whose care I had placed my sister, and in whose character I was most unhappily deceived. It was by her connivance and aid Mr Wickham so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love and to consent to an elopement.”

Elizabeth gasped.

“She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse;” he laughed slightly but then continued.

“But after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add that I owed the knowledge of it to herself.” He looked at her directly for the first time since he had started speaking.

“I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement; and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the plan whole to me.”

He had stopped walking and looked at her directly, Elizabeth hardly knew how to think or feel.

“You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister’s credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Mr Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mrs Younge was of course removed from her charge.

Mr Wickham’s chief object was unquestionably my sister’s fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement.

His revenge would have been complete indeed. ”

He was silent then, as was Elizabeth, her mind was racing.

She could hardly believe what she had just heard, and yet she could not believe that he would invent such a tale of his sister.

No it must be true. But she could not believe that Mr Wickham would act in such a way to any young lady.

Elizabeth was angry, but she hardly knew why.

She had to know more. She broke the silence first, fighting to keep her voice level.

“Why would Mr Wickham want revenge on you?”

Mr Darcy looked away from her again. “I do not know what you have been told about my history with him. Mr Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service to him, and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge-most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education.

My father was not only fond of this young man’s society, whose manners were always engaging; he also had the highest opinion of him, and hoped the church would be his profession, and intended to provide for him in it. ”