Page 21 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn

The three gentlemen and one lady were a silent group for several minutes after leaving Longbourn.

“Are you all right, Georgiana?” Darcy asked finally, leaning forward to pat his great stallion on the neck.

They had attained the edge of Meryton by now, and Georgiana pulled her gray mare to walk, even as she turned a sorrowful look on her brother. “I suppose I am, but it is so very sad, is it not?”

“It is,” Bingley agreed. He and Fitzwilliam were trailing behind the Darcys, and Darcy heard real regret in the man’s voice.

He knew that Bingley too was an orphan; it was another area of commonality, that both men had lost their fathers too young.

Only his cousin Fitzwilliam still enjoyed living parents.

“I only hope that the younger Mr. Bennet proves a kind uncle to the Bennet daughters, and a good master of the estate,” Bingley said.

Darcy shook his head gloomily. Mr. Josiah Bennet was young indeed; he could not be much more than thirty years of age.

Of course, Darcy himself was only eight and twenty, but the Darcys had overseen Pemberley for many generations and had vast experience in managing tenants and land.

Given that the young heir of Longbourn was an artist, Darcy did not feel particularly hopeful about the matter, but then there was nothing he could do, after all.

Miss Elizabeth’s face filled his mind’s eye once again, and he swallowed hard. From the moment of their first acquaintance, he had been impressed by the lady’s lively countenance and saucy speech. It had been difficult to see her so drawn and wan today.

Phoenix shifted a little under him, and he looked around.

The main street of Meryton was busy at this hour with tenant farmers and shopkeepers here and there, and with servant girls and stable boys rushing to and fro doing the bidding of master and mistress.

There were a fair number of red-coated militia officers standing about.

Darcy found most of them to be reasonably interesting gentlemen, though his cousin Fitzwilliam, formerly a colonel in the Regulars, looked upon them with tolerant scorn.

There was every reason to have militia troops stationed throughout England to protect the populace in the event of a French invasion, but none of the militia officers knew what it was like to slog through frozen mud, to advance under musket fire and artillery, to suffer and die for England.

All the same, some of the officers were moderately well read, and Darcy had enjoyed his two dinners with Colonel Forster and a few of his men .

There was a horrified gasp to his left, and Darcy turned toward his sister, first in confusion, and then in alarm.

Georgiana was staring toward the left side of the street, her face white, her lips parted, even as she pulled her horse to a halt.

Darcy turned in the direction she was looking, and he too froze in shock. It could not be. It could not.

“Miss Georgiana Darcy,” the blond-haired man said, lifting a hat and taking a few bold steps toward the small group. “As I live and breathe! What an incredible honor to see you again, Miss Darcy. And Mr. Darcy as well, and Mr. Fitzwilliam!”

In later weeks, months, and years, Darcy looked back on this moment with a sense of wonder.

He had always prided himself on being an even-tempered sort of man, as was appropriate for a gentleman tasked with managing a great estate.

But in this moment, looking into the mocking eyes of the man who had almost destroyed his sister’s life, passion overcame calm.

Within seconds, he had vaulted out of his saddle and hurtled toward George Wickham, his father’s godson, who had attempted to seduce Georgiana into a runaway marriage only a few months previously.

Wickham had been surprised to observe the Darcys, but he had long thought his old playmate, now enemy, far too stately and reserved to take physical action against him, in spite of his own myriad crimes against the Darcy family.

By the time he realized his error, a large fist had smashed into his face, marring his handsome features, and he found himself rolling around on the ground, dimly aware that his favorite coat was now thoroughly muddy.

Wickham stared up incredulously and then cringed as Darcy reached down to haul him onto his feet.

A moment later, the steward’s son was up against a wall, with his taller opponent leaning forward to snarl in his ear.

“Wickham, I do not know why you are here in Meryton, but let me make a few things clear. You will not speak to my sister. You will not speak of my sister. You will not look at my sister. If she steps into a room where you are, you will leave . Is that clear?”

Wickham leaned against the wall, aware of the cold brick digging into his back, and hissed in return, “You have no right to tell me what to do, Darcy. I am not one of your tenants or servants.”

“I hold hundreds of pounds of your debts from Lambton and London,” Darcy ground out. “If I hear so much as a whisper about my sister regarding these last months, I will see you in Marshalsea. Do you understand?”

George Wickham was a proud man, but he was also sensible where his personal well-being and comfort were concerned. He had never seen Fitzwilliam Darcy in this kind of temper, and it boded ill indeed.

“I have accepted a position as lieutenant in the militia,” he said, although he did not look in Darcy’s eyes. “I have no intention of causing any trouble for Georgiana.”

“That is Miss Darcy to you.”

“Miss Darcy,” Wickham repeated obediently, though his jaw was tight with anger.

Darcy stared down at the shorter man, noting with satisfaction the torn lip and reddened cheek, and then spun around and marched over to Phoenix.

Richard had ridden next to Georgiana to shield her from what was happening on the ground, and Darcy nodded his appreciation before swinging himself up onto his own steed.

“Shall we continue?” he asked, shaking his gloved hand a little. It hurt.

“Of course,” Richard said, grinning in approval at his cousin.

Bingley, watching from behind the other three, could only stare in confusion. What was that about?

/

Meryton

A Few Minutes Earlier

“Miss Lucas, Miss Long,” Captain Denny said, bowing toward the two young ladies simpering before him, “good day to you both.”

“Good day to you, Mr. Denny,” Miss Long responded, her eyes darting to the man standing next to the captain. “I hope you are well?”

“I am indeed. Now, ladies, might I have the opportunity of introducing my companion to you? This is Mr. Wickham, who has just accepted a commission in the regiment. Mr. Wickham, Miss Lucas and Miss Long.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Wickham declared, sweeping off his hat and bowing dramatically.

Denny grinned as both ladies blushed openly, their gaze now fixed on the blond-haired gentleman with his startling blue eyes.

Wickham was an incredibly good looking individual, along with being well built and charming.

He would, Denny thought cynically, have no trouble finding a girl to warm his bed .

“Mr. Wickham, Captain Denny, I do hope that you will come to Lucas Lodge next Friday evening,” Maria Lucas said, batting her eyelashes at Wickham in particular. “We are to have a dinner and perhaps some dancing; if you like dancing, that is.”

“I do indeed,” Wickham said with an easy smile. “But I would not care to arrive without an invitation from your esteemed parents…”

The man trailed away, and his gaze shifted toward the street.

Denny and the ladies turned, and Denny raised a hand in acknowledgment of the gentlemen approaching on horseback.

He did not know the young lady accompanying them, but Mr. Bingley, the new master of nearby Netherfield Park, was excellent company, as was Mr. Fitzwilliam.

Mr. Darcy, while a bit stiff, was an interesting and intelligent conversationalist.

“Miss Georgiana Darcy,” Wickham said, lifting his hat and advancing toward the small group. “As I live and breathe! What an incredible honor to see you again, Miss Darcy. And Mr. Darcy as well, and Mr. Fitzwilliam!”

Captain Denny was startled to discover that Wickham was acquainted with the Darcys, but his surprise gave way to incredulity as Darcy, his usually calm face twisted in fury, abruptly leaped off his horse, tore forward in a rage, and punched Wickham so hard that the man fell on the ground.

A moment later, Darcy hauled Wickham to his feet and pushed him against the nearest wall, whereupon the two men engaged in a quiet conversation.

Miss Lucas and Miss Long had shrieked in alarm at the initial blow, and they now were staring in wide-eyed dismay.

Denny glanced at Darcy’s cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam, whom he knew to be a former colonel in the Regulars, and noting the anger on that man’s face and the grief on the countenance of the lady at his side, decided that he wanted nothing to do with this quarrel.

Denny cleared his throat and said, “My dear young ladies, might I accompany you home?”

Miss Lucas was apparently too shocked to speak, but Miss Long was made of sterner stuff. “Thank you, Mr. Denny. We would like that very much.”

Denny held out both arms and the two young women latched on.

Miss Lucas still seemed distressed and anxious, but Miss Long was smiling slightly.

The captain’s heart sank; he was an only son with four sisters and a mother, and he well knew that some womenfolk lived for gossip.

Given the public nature of the altercation, it would be known throughout Meryton that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham were at odds, and considering Darcy’s great wealth, it was likely that Wickham would prove the loser in the court of opinion.

He wondered what his friend had done to earn such wrath from Darcy of Pemberley.

/

Netherfield

“My dear Charles, I did not expect you back from Longbourn so quickly!” his younger sister exclaimed.

She had intended to work on an elegant piece of needlework this morning, but a late night, combined with rising early to spend a few minutes with Mr. Darcy at the breakfast table, had enticed her to sit by the fire for a comfortable hour, drowsing in the heat.

Mrs. Hurst, seated across from her, was holding a book in one languid hand, but Caroline noted her sister’s head bobbing more than once.

Bingley walked over to warm his hands in the flames and said, “Yes, it was a very short visit because we found Longbourn in some disarray. It seems that Mr. Bennet is gravely ill and is not expected to survive.”

Louisa jerked to attention at these words and turned a dismayed face on her brother. “He is ill? With what?”

“That I do not know, but it appears he has been failing for some time, and the situation has become dire. The Bennets’ uncles from London are at Longbourn, and Miss Mary is to wed her fiancé in a few days.”

“She plans to marry on the eve of their father’s death?” Caroline snorted, rising to her feet and shaking out her skirt. “That seems a trifle rushed; I wonder if perhaps there is a reason why Miss Mary is eager to wed now instead of waiting like a decent woman.”

Bingley turned toward his sister, glowering, and said, “There is no cause to imagine that there is anything more than the natural desire to wed the man she loves before going into mourning.”

“Indeed, Caroline, it would be foolish for Miss Mary to wait,” Louisa agreed. “Six months is a long time, and I would expect that the new heir is eager to marry off at least one of the Bennet girls. It is hard enough that he will be expected to care for Mrs. Bennet and four unmarried daughters.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose at this, shrugged, and said, “There is truth in that, I suppose. I do wonder how Mrs. Bennet will cope with the change at Longbourn. She does not seem the kind of lady who will be at ease with being supplanted by a new mistress.”

“True,” her sister said comfortably. “Now then, shall we have some tea?”