Page 2 of Superior Connections
“C ertainly, Mr Darcy. What sort of favour do you need from me?”
“I have reason to believe that you will receive — or already have received — some information that will not paint me in a favourable light.”
He glanced at her again.
“I cannot feign ignorance to your meaning, Mr Darcy.”
“So he has already begun. He usually needs a few more days until he finds people willing to listen to him.”
The last sentence sounded offensive to Elizabeth, even though his tone and countenance remained calm and amiable.
“The favour I need, Miss Bennet, is for you to judge his assertions wisely, and to request proof to support his complaints. George Wickham has the ability to make friends easily and gain people’s trust. That usually changes once his true character is discovered.”
“He had the misfortune of losing your friendship in a way that might affect him for life,” she uttered. “You once said you might be resentful.”
“He did lose my friendship, not due to resentment but due to disappointment that he was offered so many chances and wasted all of them. My father was George Wickham’s godfather and loved him dearly. That was my inducement to overlook his many flaws and many of his actions for years. I even concealed the truth from my father, so he died still holding Wickham in regard. I had to deal with him further until enough was enough.”
His words shook and confused Elizabeth; she searched for a proper reply, careful not to offend or anger him. After all, she was alone with him, a strange, proud, and arrogant man, far from her home, hurt, and depending on his help.
“I cannot be sure where the truth lies. I dare assume that Mr Wickham did not meet your expectations, and he is not perhaps successful enough for you to call him a friend. But…would it not have been easier for you to grant him the living your father wished him to have? And after that, you could have easily disregarded him for the rest of your life.”
“I could have — if he had showed any desire to study for the church or if his character suggested any inclination to be a clergyman. It was my duty to respect my father’s will but also to protect the people of that parish.”
Elizabeth was astounded. She refused to believe what Mr Darcy was implying regarding Mr Wickham and was eager for more details. But she noticed his discomposure and did not dare ask further.
“Miss Bennet, it would be ungentlemanlike of me to burden you further with my past dealings with Mr Wickham. If he happens to mention something about a living again, he should explain the conditions around it, what else he received, and whether he requested compensation instead of the named living. I trust you are not easily deceived and would not put your confidence in a man you hardly know — either me or him — without clear evidence.”
That statement concluded the subject, leaving Elizabeth speechless and thoughtful. She was cold, her ankle was painful, and the entire situation was too distressing for thorough consideration of what she had been told. Mr Darcy had implied there had been financial compensation, about which Mr Wickham had said nothing. What irritated her the most was that, contrary to Mr Darcy’s suggestion, she had asked for no proof, and she had trusted in Mr Wickham from the first moment they met.
She was also vexed that Mr Darcy had said ‘he usually needs a few more days until he finds people willing to listen to him’. That meant Mr Wickham was wont to act in the same way, in similar situations, and she just happened to be one of those easily fooled. She felt offended by one of the men, but she was not sure which one yet.
“There is Longbourn,” Mr Darcy said. “We are just in time, before the rain begins. Let us hurry.”
She was tempted to walk the rest of the way, but that would have been ridiculous and would only aggravate her injury.
He stopped the horse in front of the house.
“Let me help you down. I shall carry you to the door.”
“Oh…I am sorry to give you even more trouble. I think I can hop on one foot if I can hold your arm.”
“Miss Bennet, it would be easier this way,” he said, stretching out his hands to her. She slid down from the saddle right into his arms, holding her breath, supporting herself on her right foot. She lost her balance immediately, so she had to lean against him, feeling his breath on her cheek as well as catching his scent. She felt suddenly dizzy, and she quivered.
“Be careful of your ankle,” he said, and to her utter astonishment, she felt herself lifted into the air. She immediately brought her arms around his neck for better support, her face disturbingly close to his.
Indeed, he only needed a few moments and a few steps to take them to the door, then he put her down, his arm still around her waist.
“Oh dear, I have ruined your coat,” she said. “And your gloves…and your neckcloth…”
“They should be your last concern,” he said with a smile pressed between his lips that revealed dimples in his cheeks. She quivered again, while he knocked at the door several times.
When it finally opened, Jane appeared, gasping in shock.
“Lizzy, what happened? Dear Lord, you are hurt!”
Behind her were Lydia, Kitty, and Mary, then Mrs Bennet, yelling. Jane hurried to fetch a chair so Elizabeth could sit.
“Oh, dear Lord, what happened to you? Where have you been? We have been so worried about you! You are dirty and wet!” Mrs Bennet cried, her handkerchief fluttering about her.
“Please calm down for a moment, Mama. I am sorry I gave you a fright. I went for a walk, and I trapped my foot between two tree stumps. I think I sprained my ankle. Fortunately, Mr Darcy happened upon me, and he was kind enough to assist me and bring me home. That is all.”
“That is all?” Mrs Bennet cried. “Oh dear, what shall I do with you, Lizzy? Lady Rosseford should arrive any minute! What shall I tell her if she sees you like this? And you have ruined Mr Darcy’s clothes!”
“Forgive me, madam,” Mr Darcy interjected, “Miss Elizabeth should be taken to her room, and she should not put her foot down. The apothecary should be fetched immediately. The injury is bleeding and needs immediate care. She might have caught a cold too.”
“Yes, thank you, we shall do that,” Jane answered. “Mary, send Peter to fetch Mr Jones. Lydia, call Papa. We need help to carry Lizzy.”
Mr Bennet arrived, drawn by the loud voices, and startled, turning pale.
“I am well, Papa, do not worry,” Elizabeth said. “This is Mr Darcy. He found me and brought me home on his horse.”
“But how…why…what happened?”
“We must carry Lizzy upstairs, Papa. She cannot put her foot down,” Jane explained.
“Mrs Bennet, Mr Bennet,” Mr Darcy interjected again, “if you agree, I could carry Miss Elizabeth to her room. It is no trouble for me, and she needs to be in bed and changed as soon as possible.”
His proposal silenced everyone, and with her cheeks burning, Elizabeth watched her mother and father staring at the gentleman in disbelief.
Then, Mr Bennet looked at Elizabeth, then at Mr Darcy, and said, “Sir, I am honoured to make your acquaintance, though I am not sure how it happened. I never believed I would say this to any man, but I would be truly grateful if you would help us carry Lizzy to her chamber.”
“Certainly, sir,” Mr Darcy said. Then he looked at Elizabeth as if asking her permission before lifting her again, and she held onto his neck.
“This way, please,” Jane said, running ahead. Mr Darcy climbed the stairs two at a time, while the rest of the family followed him.
Jane opened the door and showed him which bed was Elizabeth’s, and he placed her on it. Mrs Bennet entered too, while the others remained in the hall.
Mr Darcy caught his breath for a moment, then gazed at Elizabeth, and their eyes locked. Elizabeth’s heart was racing and pounding so loudly that she was sure everybody could hear it.
“Thank you, Mr Darcy,” she whispered, pulling off his dirty gloves and handing them to him.
He pushed them into his pocket. “I am glad I could help. I mean, I am very sorry for the accident. I wish you a speedy and easy recovery, Miss Elizabeth.”
Then he bowed and left, while Jane closed the door.
∞∞∞
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth’s father and younger sisters, uncertain what to say. He was at Longbourn for the first time, he had just met the gentleman without even being properly introduced, he had carried Elizabeth in his arms — twice — and his dirty gloves and hers as well as her boot were still in his pocket. What could be said without breaching propriety even more and not sounding silly?
“Mr Darcy, I am speechless. How can I thank you enough for going to so much trouble, so much effort?” Mr Bennet mumbled.
“No thanks are necessary, Mr Bennet. Fortunately, I was in the right place at the right time to offer my assistance. Oh, here are Miss Elizabeth’s gloves and her boot,” he said, handing them to Miss Mary.
She took them hesitantly and uttered, “I sent Peter to fetch Mr Jones.”
“Good. Let us hope his report will indicate nothing to worry about.”
“Mr Darcy, would you allow me to offer you at least a drink?” his host offered.
“I would be happy to accept, but some other time, Mr Bennet. I must change my clothes. Besides, I heard you are expecting a visitor. I wish you all the best.”
“You too, Mr Darcy. I hope we shall have the chance to meet again soon. And thank you for bringing Lizzy home safely. Allow me to escort you to the door.”
They walked together down the stairs; Darcy began to feel cold, and for a moment he was tempted to accept a glass of brandy to keep him warm while he rode back to Netherfield. But he was too dirty and too wet to even sit down. Furthermore, a voice startled him, and a man ran towards them. Darcy recollected he had seen him in Meryton with the Bennet sisters.
“My dear Mr Bennet, what happened? I heard voices. Did Lady Rosseford arrive?”
“No, Mr Collins. Elizabeth had a little accident, and Mr Darcy was kind enough to bring her home. Mr Darcy, this is my cousin Mr Collins.”
Darcy nodded briefly and was about to leave when the man stopped him again.
“Could you by any chance be Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire? The nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park?”
Darcy frowned, glanced at Mr Bennet — who seemed equally puzzled — then answered, “I am.”
“Mr Darcy, my name is William Collins, and I am the rector of Hunsford parish. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is my noble patroness and most generous protector.”
“Is she? How fortunate for you. Now please excuse me. I must leave. I am in quite a hurry.”
He hastened his steps, then turned to bid a final farewell to Mr Bennet. At that moment, the door was pushed open, and an elegant elderly lady, dressed most fashionably, entered, followed by two servants. With her eyebrow arched, she scrutinised each of them — no doubt appalled by his appearance.
Mr Bennet stepped forwards and said, obviously overjoyed, “Aunt! You are here, finally! What a pleasure to see you! You have hardly changed in almost twenty years.”
“Thomas? My dear boy, I am so glad to see you!”
She then glanced at Darcy again, and Mr Bennet said, “Aunt, please allow me to introduce Mr Darcy. He is staying with his friend Mr Bingley at Netherfield. My second daughter Elizabeth suffered a small accident earlier, and Mr Darcy brought her home. It is a long story. We shall have time to discuss it over dinner. Mr Darcy, this is my aunt Lady Rosseford.”
Darcy bowed to the lady, surprised that the Bennets had a noble relation and curious about her identity. The name Rosseford was completely unknown to him, and he wondered about never hearing it within London society.
“Lady Rosseford, I apologise for my appearance. I am delighted to make your acquaintance, and I am sorry I am not more properly dressed for the occasion.”
“You look terrible, Mr Darcy. I mean your attire, as you are quite handsome. I look forward to hearing the story of why your clothes are in such a state.”
Darcy smiled. The lady appeared to be a peculiar — and dangerous — combination of his two aunts, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Matlock. Whilst significantly older than both, she was equally elegant, impressive, and outspoken — and probably also arrogant and vain but with a delightful sense of humour.
“Are you by any chance related to the Darcys of Pemberley, or is it just a coincidence that you have the same name?”
“George Darcy was my father. Sadly, both my parents died several years ago.”
“Oh dear, I am so sorry to hear that. I visited Pemberley the year before I left England. Your parents were a lovely couple. I believe I met you too. You were very young but already as handsome as your father and grandfather. I think I see the resemblance despite the dirt on your face.”
“What an amazing coincidence, your ladyship,” Darcy replied, dumbstruck.
“Mr Darcy, are you certain you do not wish to stay and have a drink and continue this conversation?” Mr Bennet asked.
“You are very kind, sir, but now I am even more eager to leave immediately, considering my attire. I hope we shall meet again soon, when my appearance is more appropriate to being in your company.”
He bowed again, and this time he hurried out of the house. As he left, he saw another carriage approaching, and he assumed it was the apothecary.