Page 39 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

The Phillips’ House

Meryton

Elizabeth settled deeper into the comfortable cushions of the couch, with Charlotte Lucas a reassuring presence at her side.

The room was warm and bright, the fire leaping in the grate and the sun pouring in the windows from a clear blue sky.

Elizabeth wished momentarily, as she faced the several men about the room, that Jane or her aunt were there as well.

But Jane and her beloved Charles were upstairs tending to Lydia, and Mrs. Phillips was downstairs pestering her kitchen staff for soft foods for her niece’s injured throat.

Elizabeth caught her father’s reassuring eye as she faced Sir William and Colonel Forster. Close at hand, Mr. Darcy shifted, another welcome presence lending strength.

“I heard Lydia screaming for help,” Elizabeth told her audience, “and rushed through the alley into the courtyard. The moon was bright last night, and my eyes had adjusted, but even so, I could only tell that someone was attacking my dear sister. I rushed up, crying for him to stop, and he hit me…”

She trailed away for a moment and carefully touched her bruised cheek, even as Darcy, who was standing as close as possible to his love, gritted his teeth in fury.

Elizabeth shook her head a little and then lifted her gaze up to stare directly into Sir William Lucas’s eyes.

“He had resumed his attack on Lydia, and I was desperate to do something to help her, as I could now see that he was choking her. I saw a dark shape on the snow and reached out in the hope of finding something I could use to fight the man. I found it to be hard and heavy, and it turned out to be a brick. I do not know why it was there…”

“I believe that Mr. Egerton is removing some bricks in order to create an additional window in the bookstore,” Charlotte murmured.

Elizabeth nodded and continued, “I took it and smashed it as hard as I could on the man’s head, and he immediately let Lydia go. I pushed him away and helped Lydia up, and we fled out of the courtyard, through the alley, and into the main street, where Jane and the carriage were waiting.”

She bit her lip and then shifted her glance to Colonel Forster, who was standing near the fire, and said, “I do not regret my actions. He would have killed Lydia if I had not intervened.”

“Your actions were courageous and honorable,” Darcy said, drawing glances from everyone else in the room. “I can only grieve the horrific behavior of this man who was my childhood friend, and rejoice that neither you nor Miss Lydia was gravely harmed.”

“I understand that you have known Mr. Wickham for many years, Mr. Darcy?” Forster inquired, his tone a blend of respect for a member of the upper classes and frustration at the current situation.

“I have,” Darcy said. “George Wickham was a great favorite of my father, and I also counted him a friend and playmate during my first decade of life. For many years, however, I have considered the man dangerous – not in the violent sense, since he has never, to my knowledge, been violent in the past. Indeed, I am as much bewildered as shocked by his actions last night. But everything else, I fear, is no surprise. He ran up debts wherever he went, he seduced tenants’ daughters, he …

he once attempted to run away with an heiress.

I should have spoken more boldly about such things, but I confess I did not imagine that Wickham would move so rapidly regarding Miss King.

He has only been in Meryton a short time! ”

Sir William huffed and said, “I have no doubt that my own actions were the cause of his haste; I made a point of warning the local merchants and shopkeepers that they ought not lend too much to the militia officers. Wickham had already racked up considerable debts, and everyone had cut him off.”

“I am grieved that I was not made aware of Wickham’s dastardly proclivities,” Forster said stiffly.

Bennet, who had been silent so far, frowned at the man in exasperation and said, “All of this is interesting but not vital. Miss King, Lydia, and Elizabeth were in a courtyard with Wickham last night, and thus all three ladies are vulnerable to dangerous gossip if this dreadful situation is made generally known! What are we going to do about that, gentlemen?”

Silence fell for a moment, and then Darcy, whose eyes were fixed on Elizabeth’s worried face, said, “I do not know Meryton particularly well, but I assume it is like many a small town, and rumors will soon be flying regarding what happened last night.”

“Assuredly they will,” Charlotte said unhappily. “Few are aware of exactly what happened, but the blacksmith’s entire household knows of Wickham’s injuries, and…”

She hesitated for a moment and then continued apologetically, “I fear that Mrs. Phillips will find it difficult to keep quiet over all that has happened in the last day.”

“Oh, surely my aunt will not say a word!” Elizabeth cried out in dismay, but her father said wearily, “Miss Lucas is correct, Lizzy. Mrs. Phillips loves you, but Wickham’s death will be the talk of the town.

Moreover, you, at least, are obviously injured, which will provoke questions. It will slip out, I fear.”

Elizabeth’s face fell at these words, and her eyes grew bright with tears.

Charlotte reached out to take her friend’s hand in her own, and Darcy, observing this, felt a stab of envy.

He wanted to hold Elizabeth’s hands. He wanted to embrace her, to kiss away her tears, to comfort her.

But he could do nothing, not really, since he was neither husband nor betrothed.

But he could be, could he not? He could...

“Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he said abruptly, “I have an idea to mitigate the problem, but I would prefer to make my suggestion in private.”

Everyone looked startled, but after a moment’s thought, Bennet said, “I have no idea what you can do, sir, but of course Lizzy and I would be pleased to meet you in private.”

“Perhaps we should leave?” Sir William asked, but Darcy shook his head and said, “Please do not. I do not believe my conversation with Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth will take many minutes.”

“I will arrange for tea to be served here in the drawing room,” Elizabeth said, rising gracefully to her feet. “Father, might you escort Mr. Darcy into the parlor, and I will join you shortly?”

Mr. Bennet sighed and gestured toward Darcy, who followed the man down a corridor and into a small room which was obviously used rarely.

It was both formal and grim, heavy dark drapes inducing a somber air in the room and making it feel claustrophobic.

Straight-backed chairs with stiffly brocaded cushions did not make visitors feel welcome to sit, instead awing them with their grandeur.

All that was in the fireplace was a layer of dust, and the air of the room shivered with chill.

Bennet wandered over to stare out of the window, which faced a side street, and sighed deeply before saying, “Mr. Darcy, it is kind of you to work so hard on our behalf, though I confess that I am not certain how you can help us in this dreadful situation. I know I am much to blame in raising my youngest daughter to be such a fool.”

Darcy grimaced and said, “While Miss Lydia’s actions were certainly unwise, the Kings have every reason to be grateful for her interference. She and Miss Elizabeth saved Miss King from a horrific fate.”

The creaking of the door behind him caused him to turn and observe Elizabeth standing a few feet inside the parlor, her expression grave. “That is true enough, Father,” she said. “Given what we now know about Wickham, he would have been an appalling husband to Miss King.”

Bennet turned around and said, “Doubtless that is true enough, but why could Lydia not have told you and Jane what she overheard? Why run off alone and attempt to stop the elopement by herself?”

“She wished to be a heroine like Mary,” Elizabeth said softly. Father and daughter gazed at one another, and then Bennet blew out a breath and said, “I suppose that is not surprising, given your mother’s ... well, enough of that. Mr. Darcy, what is your idea?”

Darcy turned to stare at the woman he loved, and found himself unable to speak.

In his nearly thirty years on earth, he had met countless beautiful women, many of them wealthy and well connected, most of them accomplished, a few intelligent.

But he had never, in all his life, been so struck to the very heart as by the vision before him, of Elizabeth Bennet, dressed in a simple woolen green dress, her hair twisted into a simple bun, her face bruised, her left eye swollen by Wickham’s fist.

Dear God in Heaven, how he loved her.

The seconds were passing, and his Elizabeth was looking more and more puzzled and perturbed. He needed to say something, but what was he to say when faced with the most important conversation of his life and one, moreover, that he had not planned ahead of time?

“I … think the best thing is for the town to have something else to gossip about instead of Wickham’s death and your injuries.

..” he managed, and then added, in a rush, “I wish to marry you, Miss Elizabeth, but if you do not wish to marry me yet, if you are not certain, perhaps a courtship would be acceptable? I mean, I am certain that Mrs. Phillips and the other ladies would enjoy speaking of … well...”

He stumbled to a halt, his face flaming red with embarrassment.

He could see, in his peripheral vision, that Mr. Bennet was gaping incredulously, and Miss Elizabeth too was staring at him with astonishment, but after a few seconds, which felt more like minutes to the lovelorn gentleman, she stepped forward and said, “You wish to marry me, Mr. Darcy?”

“I do, with all my heart!”

“Why?”

Darcy blinked at her, bewildered. “Because I love you.”

She smiled now, and even with the bruises, she was utterly exquisite. “You love me? Why?”

“I adore you,” he replied, and now, mercifully, his tongue was loosened.

“You are brave, and beautiful, and diligent, and intelligent. You are a caring daughter and sister and friend. You are strong and vigorous. You care about the tenants of Longbourn more than your own comforts. You are devoted to doing what is right even if others disdain you for it. I have lived most of my life believing that I must choose a wife based on connections and wealth, but in these last weeks, God has shown me what should have been obvious, had I not been a fool; that fortune and alliances are nothing compared to genuine respect and love between a man and a woman. I have come to realize that you are the only woman in the world for me.”

Her eyes were glowing now, even the left one, which was swollen partially shut.

“I love you too, Mr. Darcy. I know that our first meeting was an unfortunate one, and I embraced the most ridiculous prejudice against you in the first days of our acquaintance. But ever since the fire – oh sir, when I think of how hard you worked to save Longbourn, to care for our family when you had no responsibility to do so. I am grateful to you, sir, but more than that I admire, respect, and yes, adore you. In the midst of sorrow and suffering, I have come to see you as the best man in the world for me, and I am honored and overjoyed to accept your offer of marriage.”

“Oh Elizabeth!” Darcy cried out, reaching out to grasp Elizabeth’s hands in his own. He had never, in all his life, been so incredibly happy. “Elizabeth!”

There was a loud clearing of a throat, and the couple jumped and turned guiltily toward Mr. Bennet, who was now watching them with a sardonic curl to his lips, which was at odds with the look of sadness in his eyes.

“Mr. Darcy, do you have something to ask me?”

“I do, sir,” Darcy said promptly, tightening his grip on Elizabeth’s hands. “I am very much in love with your daughter, Elizabeth, and wish to make her my wife. Would you please grant me your blessing on our marriage?”

Bennet looked at his daughter and could see, in the smile on her lips, and the joy in her eyes, quite aside from her proclamation a moment previously, that she was in love with Darcy as he was with her.

“I give you my blessing, of course,” he said, though inwardly he sighed. It would be difficult to lose his Lizzy to the wilds of Derbyshire, but he could not imagine denying her a truly wonderful gentleman as a husband, and could not release her to a better man.

There was a soft tapping at the door, and a moment later, it swung open to reveal Bingley’s worried countenance. “Darcy, Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, word has just arrived that Wickham is dead.”

The man’s gaze then shifted to Elizabeth and Darcy, who were still holding hands, and his eyes widened. “Darcy?” he asked in confusion, his head cocked to the side like a confused hound, unsure how to earn the treat his master was holding.

“Bingley, Miss Elizabeth and I are engaged to be married!” Darcy exclaimed.

Bingley’s anxious expression shifted to one of ecstatic delight, and he cried out, “Engaged! I had no idea! Darcy, Elizabeth, I am so happy for you!”

“We are very happy as well,” Elizabeth said, her eyes bright, “but…” and here she looked at her father and her adored Fitzwilliam, “we do have work to do to prevent a scandal for ourselves and the Kings.”

“Indeed we do,” Darcy replied, though his heart was light. He felt, in this moment, that he could battle Bonaparte himself.