Page 28

CHAPTER 28

Discoveries

A ll too soon, the newly engaged couple arrived at Longbourn, and, instead of joining the others in the sitting room with Mrs. Bennet, they went directly to Bennet’s study.

As soon as they entered, Bennet seemed to recognise what had happened.

“Ah, so you have finally gathered the nerve to ask, and I dare say, Lizzy has accepted,” Bennet said by way of greeting.

“However,” he said again, looking at the pair, “I believe you have come to my study for more than simply that. Tell me, what occurred in Meryton for, as I recall, my daughters left not more than an hour ago and returned with not just one, but two gentlemen in tow.”

“I will let William tell you everything, Papa,” Elizabeth said.

“I will go join the others so Mama does not speculate on the reason for both of us being in here with you.”

Bennet raised his brow when Elizabeth referred to Darcy by his Christian name but said nothing.

“I suppose it goes without saying that you have my permission to marry my daughter, much as I hate to lose her. Now, what is it that you need to tell me? ”

“Wickham has joined the militia and is encamped here in Meryton,” Darcy said without preamble.

“He was introduced to your daughters this morning and singled Elizabeth out for his interest. She was uncomfortable with his attention, and she obviously knows he is not to be trusted. Richard will be working with Colonel Forster starting next week, but when I inform him of Wickham’s presence here, he may wish to seek the man out sooner.”

Darcy paused, his anxiety at this man’s proximity coming back to him.

“The additional footmen I requested arrived last night. With your approval, I would like to send additional men here for Elizabeth’s protection. I understand you have sufficient staff, but mine are better trained—many of them are former soldiers, not typical footmen.”

Bennet nodded at this.

“Most of mine are younger men, the sons of my tenants or young men from the village and are solely trained as footmen. Perhaps, if you have enough men to teach some of mine some basic skills, all my daughters could be escorted wherever they go.”

“We never had time yesterday to discuss what, if anything, you learnt from your brother in London,” Darcy said.

“I would like to understand what my uncle’s purpose is in trying to force me to marry the viscount’s daughter. My cousin suggested that, if I were to marry Elizabeth privately, and then let it be known, my uncle would have to back down, but I am unconvinced it can be that simple. While I would take Elizabeth as my wife as soon as you will allow it, I do not want to hurry it because of the threats. My uncle’s obstinacy should not deprive Elizabeth of the wedding she wishes.”

“Elizabeth will wish for a far simpler wedding than what my wife will feel necessary,” Bennet said ruefully.

“You would be doing both me and Elizabeth a favour to insist on a quick ceremony.”

Darcy closed his eyes as he considered this.

“Elizabeth said as much as well. When we leave, I will go straight to the church and obtain a common license. May I take the marriage contract with me to prove I have your permission, or would you prefer to simply write a note? Either way, I will ask your rector to keep the matter silent for now and inform him of the possible threat.”

“I will write a note, lending credence to your request for secrecy,” Bennet said.

“While I write, read the letter I received yesterday afternoon from my brother and see if that tells you anything you do not already know. I also had a letter yesterday from Livesay, and he will arrive within a fortnight.”

Accepting the letters Bennet handed him, Darcy settled into the comfortable chair beside the fireplace and began to read.

He opened Livesay’s letter first. It offered little beyond what they already knew though it did promise further explanation upon his arrival—expected either at the end of the week or early the next.

Livesay was travelling with his youngest daughter, a girl slightly older than Mary Bennet who had made her debut the previous spring.

Darcy remembered her well—a striking young woman with golden hair who had drawn no small amount of interest within the ton .

Her dowry was said to rival Caroline Bingley’s, yet Darcy recalled Miss Bingley declining her acquaintance, citing the young lady’s lack of title and the modesty of her family’s estate as reason enough to disregard her.

Shaking his head at the memory, Darcy turned to the second letter.

As he read, the colour drained from his face.

The contents were troubling.

At present, Bennet, nothing can be confirmed.

Whatever is taking place, it is conducted with such secrecy that few are privy to the truth.

Still, rumours abound.

Livesay may know more as the centre of activity appears to be near Lancashire.

Much of it is masked as wool transport, which—as you know—is heavily regulated.

Yet it seems there is something far more nefarious at play.

As I said, nothing is certain.

My belief is that someone pays handsomely to keep it quiet—whether with coin or coercion.

Most of my sources suggest the latter.

Intimidation, it seems, is the currency of choice.

Bennet, I hesitate to put too much in writing, but there are whispers of something far beyond smuggling.

It seems trade is being used as a front—wool and armaments, mostly—but some believe the goal is political influence, perhaps even control over military contracts.

A few names have been mentioned, one in particular said to be facing ruin unless funds are secured in the new year.

If true, it explains the secrecy—and the intimidation.

Those who ask questions tend to vanish from public life or quietly recant.

Livesay may have more.

For now, I urge caution.

Keep your eyes open—and your daughters close.

Shaking his head as though to clear it, Darcy read through the letter a second time, much more slowly this time.

When he reached the end, his jaw was tightly set and his fingers curled around the paper until he was forced to release them, so he would not crumple it.

“This is far worse than I anticipated,” Darcy said quietly, noting that Bennet had finished writing and was now watching him closely.

“If your brother is correct, we are facing more than a desperate bid for money. This is something else entirely—organized, deliberate, and, if true, not merely treasonous but a very real attempt to harm the monarchy.”

He exhaled sharply, his expression grim.

“I can only suppose that my uncle seeks to tie me to the viscount’s family both to silence me and to gain access to my funds. Matlock is entailed— Pemberley is not. If he is as deeply involved as Gardiner implies, then my name and fortune offer both protection and legitimacy.”

Darcy began to pace slowly towards the window.

“Pemberley has flourished these past years, and my investments have yielded well. My uncle knows it. He may see me as a lifeline—one he means to secure through manipulation.”

He stopped, arms folded tightly across his chest and stared out at the early twilight.

“Richard must be informed at once,” he said, after a moment.

“His suggestion that I marry Elizabeth quickly no longer seems rash—it may, in fact, be prudent. I know you have every reason to be protective of her. But if there is danger, I cannot remain at a distance. Not when I know she could be made a target.”

He turned back to Bennet, his expression dark.

“Wickham saw me today. He saw Elizabeth approach me, and he watched as I escorted her home. It will not take him long to deduce my feelings—and he will write to my uncle at once. As for Wickham…he would not hesitate to harm someone I care for if he believed it would injure me.”

Bennet walked over to where Darcy stood.

“Slow down, Darcy,” he said.

“What of the countess? Does she know any of this?”

Darcy shook his head.

“No, she does not. I will ask her, if only to be certain, but if Lady Matlock knew anything of this, I believe she would have said so when we spoke to her earlier. Her father is the Earl of Coventry, and while I would not expect him to be directly involved, I do wonder if he understands where his money is going. He will not be pleased.”

“This is a question for another day,” Bennet replied, waving the matter aside.

“What concerns me now is what you intend to do about Elizabeth’s safety. With this Wickham fellow in Meryton and considering what he attempted with your sister last summer, I imagine you are just as worried for Georgiana. ”

Darcy rubbed a finger across his eyes, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It would be far easier if all the relevant parties were in the same room at the same time as we discussed this. My aunt, my cousin, and Elizabeth all should be here—there is too much to coordinate and too much potential to miss critical details if we keep passing information back and forth. We must be careful; I am unwilling to speak at Netherfield, for there are too many ears there we cannot trust, but also, I do not want to raise suspicions if we meet here to talk. With neither option appearing without problems, I do not know how to have this conversation without fear of eavesdroppers—or unintended witnesses.”

“Does your aunt ride?” Bennet asked.

Darcy raised a brow but nodded slowly.

“There is a cottage near the western boundary between Netherfield and Longbourn,” Bennet said.

“It has sat empty for years. My tenants know to leave it alone—Elizabeth and I use it from time to time when we need quiet. She often slips away there to read, always with a maid. I use it myself occasionally, when the house becomes…overfull.”

Darcy narrowed his eyes.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Bennet said evenly, “bring your aunt and your cousin to the cottage. I will bring Elizabeth. We can speak freely, out of sight and out of earshot, and decide what must be done. But for today—go home and tell your cousin about Wickham. From what I have seen of Colonel Fitzwilliam, I suspect he will handle the news better in private than in front of his mother and my daughter.”

He gave Darcy a pointed look.

“Let him cool his temper tonight, so that by tomorrow, we can all speak like rational creatures.”

Chuckling at his wit, Darcy merely shook his head.

“I will have to prise Bingley from your sitting room,” Darcy said with a sigh.

“For years, I have watched him flit from woman to woman. I fear that is what he is doing here and that, when another arrives, such as Miss Livesay, his attention towards Miss Bennet will wane. I have warned him about this behaviour, and I specifically warned him against singling out any of the Bennet ladies and raising expectations he does not intend to meet. There have been too many other matters for me to broach this topic with Elizabeth. I will do so as soon as I am able, but I wanted to make you aware so you can decide what you wish to do.”

“I am aware of his reputation and have been watching him when I can,” Bennet replied.

“My wife knows better than to push our daughters towards any gentleman, but I cannot vouch for what she says to her daughters in private. Before today is over, I will speak to both my wife and Jane and see what they have to say about the matter. Perhaps I ought to speak to Jane first to see what sort of impact this young man has already had upon her.”

With this understanding, the two men moved together towards the sitting room and joined the ladies.

Darcy had only a moment or two to whisper some private words to Elizabeth before he strongly encouraged Bingley that it was time to leave.

“Come, Bingley, let us return home,” Darcy had said.

“It would not do for us to outstay our welcome, and I have matters I need to discuss with my cousin.”

Frowning, Bingley reluctantly agreed, but not without issuing an invitation to dinner on Monday.

“My aunt suggested it but had not fixed a date before we left Netherfield. I will confirm that there is no difficulty with Monday night and send word to Mr. Bennet.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet gushed.

“We would be delighted to accept your aunt’s kind invitation.”

That done, the two gentlemen took their leave and turned towards Netherfield across the fields, deliberately avoiding the village of Meryton at Darcy’s suggestion.

Sending Bingley on ahead, Darcy paid a quick call to the Longbourn chapel, not far from the estate, to present Bennet’s letter to the rector and begin the process for a common license for him and Elizabeth to wed.