Page 28 of What Comes Between Cousins

I T WAS THE DAY AFTER Fitzwilliam’s visit that Darcy made his way back to Longbourn in Bingley’s company. The previous day, after attending Bingley in his study, Darcy had planned to visit Longbourn again. But an urgent letter from his steward had prevented his going, and he had spent the rest of the morning drafting a response. By the time he had completed that unavoidable task, he could not justify imposing himself upon them. In a certain way, he almost envied Fitzwilliam, for his father was still alive and managing the family estates.

Darcy pushed those feelings to the side. The pang he felt for his father’s absence when he thought of such matters once again hit him. That was the true reason he would wish for his father’s presence, not for any wish to avoid the responsibility of Pemberley.

Fitzwilliam had been in a foul mood that evening, after having disappeared somewhere the previous morning while Darcy was engaged with Bingley. Darcy was content to leave the man alone, as he had found his ill humors and pride difficult to endure the past days. When they had been in each other’s company that morning, little was said by either. Darcy and Bingley had excused themselves to depart, and Fitzwilliam had watched Darcy go, his gaze accusing. He had almost expected Fitzwilliam to follow them, to insist on visiting the Bennets himself. He did not, and Darcy was grateful for it.

When the gentlemen presented themselves at the door to Longbourn that morning, they were admitted readily enough. But there was something different about the atmosphere of the estate. For one, the estate’s mistress watched him, betraying nothing, but somehow expectant. Darcy could not quite understand her. The two youngest were not present that morning, and while the three elder sisters greeted him pleasantly enough—though Miss Bennet, understandably, had eyes only for Bingley—he was still assailed by that feeling of being watched. Or perhaps it was as if they were judging him. The only one who seemed unaffected by whatever had come over them was Miss Elizabeth, who appeared as happy to see him as he was to see her.

Contrary to what he might have expected, when Darcy greeted the ladies and was welcomed by them, he was largely left to the sole company of Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bennet and Bingley were soon seated together, heads in close proximity as they spoke in soft tones to each other, while Miss Mary took herself to another room, and soon the sounds of a pianoforte reached them. Mrs. Bennet remained, but she only watched over her charges, a fashion magazine, which Darcy noted she rarely even looked at, held loosely in her hands.

“Did something . . . happen, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Darcy when they were seated together and afforded relative privacy.

Miss Elizabeth’s responding gaze gave nothing away. “Why do you say that?”

“A feeling, I suppose.” Darcy paused and thought on the matter. “It seems that as I entered this morning I was carefully watched in a manner I have not noticed before. There appears to be an atmosphere, almost like . . .”

“Like what?” prompted Miss Elizabeth.

“Expectation? Wariness? In truth, I am not certain. I did not feel unwelcome when I entered, but it seemed like everyone held their breath.” Darcy laughed ruefully. “I do not imagine that Bingley often provokes such a reaction when he comes.”

Miss Elizabeth laughed, pulling Darcy along with her. A trickle of relief entered his mind, for if she was able to express her mirth in his presence, he could not be the reason for this change he detected. Or could he?

“Perhaps we are a little wary, sir,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “There have been many changes in the neighborhood of late, and we have learned of some less than estimable characters which have come into our midst. And then . . .”

Perplexed as he was by her words, Darcy smiled at her and urged her to continue. She did, but not without hesitating first.

“I am afraid to speak openly, sir. I do not wish to speak ill of anyone of your acquaintance.”

“You know I will not judge you for it,” said Darcy. Inside he was considering what she had said, and a moment’s thought later, he could only think of two she could possibly be speaking of. Unless, of course, Miss Bingley had come to bedevil them yet again. Darcy did not think so—that woman would stay far from Longbourn, given the circumstances of her last visit.

“Your cousin visited yesterday.”

Darcy had to strain to hear her words, and when he understood their import, it was all he could do to avoid scowling. What the blazes had Fitzwilliam been doing now?

“And his coming is cause for consternation?”

“It is when he refuses to believe that I have no interest in him.”

Her words were spoken in a tone which was more heated than what she usually used. Darcy was relieved to hear about her lack of interest in his cousin, but at the same point, he felt her annoyance for him for continuing to importune her.

“What has Fitzwilliam done now?” asked Darcy, feeling the unfamiliar annoyance with Fitzwilliam welling up within him again.

Miss Elizabeth proceeded to explain the happenings of the previous day, and the picture she painted was not a pleasing one. Darcy did not know what had happened to his cousin, but it seemed like Fitzwilliam was becoming the privileged noble he had always despised. His vow to prove himself to Miss Elizabeth, Darcy dismissed with nary a thought. The only way he could do so was to behave properly and cease to importune where he was not wanted.

The other part of Darcy was heartened. It was true that her disinterest in Fitzwilliam did not necessarily mean she wished to receive a proposal from Darcy himself, but it was certainly a good sign. Her words, her actions, all the little hints a woman displays when interested in a man told Darcy she was receptive to his overtures. But he was a man in love who still fretted about whether the woman of his affections would accept him.

Suddenly Darcy wished to know, and he thought this was an opportunity to not only be certain of her feelings but also provide her with protection from his cousin. He had long passed the point of admiration and interest, and he thought he loved this amazing young country miss. They would be unassailable together. Darcy very much wished to finalize their relationship.

“I am curious, though, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, breaking through Darcy’s thoughts.

“I will answer if I am able.”

“Your uncle, the earl. Should he become aware of his heir’s interest in me, would he not disapprove? The Bennets have no connection to the nobility. I would not have thought his lordship would settle for anything less than a peer’s daughter.”

Darcy’s heart almost skipped a beat at her mention of Fitzwilliam’s father, but he tamped it down quickly. It was a legitimate question to ask. Darcy wondered when he had become this nervous—it was not usually in his nature to over analyze to such an extent. Then again, he had never had his happiness bound in the person of a single young woman.

“My uncle is quite liberal-minded,” replied Darcy. “Perhaps he might pause should Fitzwilliam choose you as a bride, but I think in the end he would put his son’s happiness first.” Darcy paused and chuckled. “My uncle often complains that he has more alliances with objectionable people than he can remember. Perhaps you would be a breath of fresh air to him.”

“Then I am sorry to disappoint him,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “I know you are close to your cousin, sir, but I have always felt that he did not speak to me as a man speaking to a woman he esteems.”

“Oh?” asked Darcy, trying to understand her. “In what way?”

“His constant flattery,” said Miss Elizabeth, her frustration appearing in her voice, “By contrast, when you first came, he was friendly and did not stoop to inconsequential flattery.”

“Fitzwilliam often flatters,” replied Darcy without thinking. “He is easy in society, and it seems to come as second nature to him.”

“Then I wonder if he is serious enough. When you speak to me, I feel like you are speaking of subjects of substance, not just meaningless chatter. I feel like my opinion is valued and respected.”

“Anyone must respect your opinions, Miss Elizabeth. It is clear from speaking with you that you are intelligent. What you say is colored by rational thought, not the whims of the moment.”

“I should hope not, and I thank you for it, sir.” Miss Elizabeth smiled. “Then there you have it. My father spoke with your cousin yesterday and informed him it would be my choice whether to accept or refuse any overtures. I believe he went away unhappy, little comprehending why I would not just fall at his feet in thanks for being blessed with the favor of his attention.”

“I can hardly fathom what has become of him,” replied Darcy with a shaken head. “He has always been an excellent man. His fascination with you does not seem to me to be indicative of a true regard. You are unlike any other woman he has ever encountered. Perhaps it was my actions which led to his desire to best me. When we were younger, he was a younger son, and I was the heir of a large estate.”

“You think he envied you?”

“It is possible, but I do not think so. It seems more likely to me that he has acquired this notion that he should have what he wants, and if we both wish it, I must give way to him.”

“That is silly, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth her tone chiding.

“I do not disagree.”

“There is perhaps a way to ensure he does not bother you any longer,” said Darcy, after thinking about it for a moment. “Unfortunately, I could never betray my cousin in such a way, so I must simply trust in my own efforts to win you.”

“What way is that, Mr. Darcy?” asked Miss Elizabeth, her eyes alight with curiosity.

“It may be best if I did not say, but as it concerns you, I will tell you.” Darcy hazarded a glance at Bingley and noticed that he was far too engrossed in his conversation with Miss Bennet to hear them. Nevertheless, he spoke in a softer tone. “Netherfield, Miss Bennet, is a difficult place at present. I am sure you know how difficult Miss Bingley can be?”

When Miss Elizabeth nodded with a grimace, Darcy continued: “When Bingley returned with the news of his engagement to your sister, Miss Bingley did not take it well. Saying this is akin to stating Napoleon is mildly ambitious. I do not wish to dwell on it, but let us simply say she waxed long and eloquent about all the reasons her brother could not possibly marry your sister.”

“I am not surprised,” was all Miss Elizabeth said, though it was clear to Darcy she was clinging to her temper.

“After we had experienced enough of her tirade, Fitzwilliam and I departed, but not before Fitzwilliam made a rude comment to Bingley about his sister. Bingley, of course, took offense. Miss Bingley is angry and determined to capture Fitzwilliam, I have been annoyed with my cousin and he with me, and we have had little peace since the ball. Furthermore, it seems that Miss Bingley is determined to capture Fitzwilliam by any means necessary.”

Miss Elizabeth gasped. “She means to compromise him?”

“Her sister believes so,” replied Darcy. “So you see, it is a difficult situation. If she tries and fails, the Bingleys’ reputation suffers. Her presence is already a strain on our friendship, and Bingley has had to contend with a difficult sister when this should be a happy time.”

At that moment, Miss Elizabeth proved herself to be an excellent woman. She thought about the matter for several moments, chewing on her bottom lip as she did so. Darcy watched her with a fond smile, for as a habit, it was endearing. And alluring, he was forced to own, though he controlled himself with an iron will.

“As tempting as it may be, your cousin does not deserve to be forced into marriage in such a way.”

Darcy laughed. “I can only agree. I will own, however, that both Bingley and I thought initially to leave him to his devices with her—or at least that he deserved that fate. You are clearly a much better person for not coming to that conclusion.”

“I never said I did not consider it, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, her eyebrow arched mischievously. “I only took some time to formulate my reply before speaking.”

They laughed together at her admission. “Then perhaps you are just as fallible as we are, Miss Elizabeth. But I still must say that even taking time to think about it before saying the first thing to cross your mind is admirable.”

“By all means, Mr. Darcy,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “Make my feeble attempts to avoid saying something I ought not into virtues. I am quite delighted by it.” She then sobered and looked up at him. “I hope your cousin is taking precautions against Miss Bingley’s schemes.”

“My cousin knows nothing of our suspicions,” replied Darcy. Miss Elizabeth’s countenance darkened with confusion, but Darcy hastened to say: “I believe the bulk of the plans to thwart Miss Bingley’s attempt is being borne by Mrs. Hurst. She is the one who reported it to her brother, and they both believe—and I concur—that it would be best if she is prevented without Fitzwilliam’s knowledge. Their reputations are at stake, after all.”

Miss Elizabeth nodded slowly. “I suppose you are correct.”

“I also must own that as no one at Netherfield is very happy with my cousin at present, none of us wish to risk his further misbehavior by bringing it to his attention.”

“Your choice of words suggests that you will not leave him in ignorance forever.”

Darcy agreed. “I may inform him eventually. Miss Bennet, you must understand that my cousin of the past few weeks is not the man I have known all my life. If I can use this to remind him of himself, I shall do it. Though I find myself vexed with him, I wish my cousin returned to me.”

“I understand, sir. If Jane were behaving in such a way, I believe I would feel the same.”

“There is another matter which has arisen recently. I do not know if you are aware, but your father visited Netherfield the last time you saw Wickham.”

Miss Elizabeth frowned. “I was not aware.”

Darcy nodded—he had suspected as much. “I have sent for the debt receipts I hold, and I intend to use them to ensure Wickham is no longer a problem.”

“You will call them in?”

“When I first heard of his continued malfeasance, I had thought of holding them over his head to force his good behavior. Further reflection has convinced me that I have allowed him to carry on hurting other people longer than I should have. I will see him in prison to pay for his misdeeds.”

Miss Elizabeth looked at him, her gaze seeming to see through to his innermost thoughts. “Will you do this on my account, Mr. Darcy?”

It was a fair question, and Darcy could not help but admire her all over again. “I have given some thought to this matter as well, Miss Elizabeth. I will own that my initial determination was motivated, in no small part, to protect you. But I now see where I have erred, and I wish to correct my mistake.”

Darcy paused and considered the matter, then directed an abashed look at her. “When we were children, Wickham and I played together, as you know. I considered him a friend. Though I have known what he is for many years, I realize now that part of me did not wish to lose hope that he was beyond redemption. He was my father’s favorite, Miss Elizabeth, and condemning him to a life in prison seemed a betrayal of my father.”

“You father might still love him as his mentor,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “But he would not like the man he has become.”

“Again, you see clearly.” Darcy shook his head. “And you saw this in a matter of weeks, while I have struggled with it for years.”

“But I do not have an emotional attachment to the situation, Mr. Darcy. That must cloud your thinking.”

“That is true. But your perspicacity still amazes me. You are like no other lady I have ever met.”

The rosy blush on Miss Elizabeth’s cheeks told Darcy she was not unaffected. Now was the time, he decided.

“Miss Elizabeth,” began he in a soft voice, reaching out to grasp one of her hands in his own, “I feel . . . I feel a close connection to you. As I said, I have never met anyone who affects me as you do. I find I am captivated by your poise and charm, entranced by your intelligence and wit, and helpless before your beauty and goodness.”

“Then I must think you blind, sir,” said Miss Elizabeth Her cheeks were so stained with red he might have thought she had just come in from a cold day. “Jane is the beauty of the family.”

Of its own accord, Darcy’s finger reached out to stroke her jaw. Her eyes darted up to meet his, and Darcy could almost feel himself falling into them, as if diving into the warmth of their clear, brown depths. She leaned into his hand, and Darcy, mindful of propriety, stroked her cheek once more before allowing his hand to fall.

“I beg to differ, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, his voice rough-sounding to his own ears. “Your sister is, indeed, very pretty. But I have never seen a more beautiful sight before me than I do now. You have bewitched me, and I have no hope if you do not consent to a courtship with me.”

“Only a courtship?” asked she, her laughter bubbling up and caressing him like the wind on a spring day. “My sister received a proposal, and all I receive is a request for a courtship?”

Darcy grinned back at her. “Bingley is more impetuous than I am myself. I am more measured and rational.”

“Ah, but love is anything but rational.”

“Miss Elizabeth, are you attempting to elicit a proposal from me?”

His raised eyebrow caused another laugh. “No, Mr. Darcy. A courtship would be wonderful.”

Then all was right in his world. Indeed, Darcy could imagine many days of happiness ahead with this wonderful creature at his side.

––––––––

S INCE BENNET HAD SPOKEN with Mr. Darcy’s cousin only the previous day, he thought it prudent to speak with Mr. Darcy as well, and his wife alerting him to the man’s presence provided that opportunity. The same warning Bennet had given Darcy’s cousin would need to be imparted to the gentleman himself.

That Mr. Darcy might seek him out first, Bennet had never considered. When the man sat in front of him, regarding him with his usual gravity, Bennet wondered what had happened to precipitate his request for an audience. Surely he could not be so precipitous as to request this for the usual reason a young man accosted a lady’s father!

“Mr. Bennet,” began Mr. Darcy when they had exchanged the usual pleasantries, “I have asked to see you this morning because I have requested a courtship from your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, and she has accepted me. I come begging for your permission and blessing.”

It was a pretty speech, indeed. Bennet did not think Mr. Darcy often assumed such a humble demeanor. But Bennet could hardly think of that —he was shocked that the man had moved so quickly, and even more so that Lizzy had accepted. Did she already esteem him that much?”

“I apologize for not answering immediately, Mr. Darcy, but you have surprised me exceedingly.”

Mr. Darcy regarded him with impassive attention. “Surely my interest in your daughter was not ambiguous.”

“No, Mr. Darcy, they were not.” Mr. Bennet sighed. “But given the difficulty which has persisted for my Lizzy with your cousin, I am surprised you have acted so quickly.” Bennet paused and fixed Mr. Darcy with a stern glare. “Or perhaps it is not. With your cousin competing with you for Elizabeth’s attention, I suppose it makes sense you would ask for her hand first.”

“No, Mr. Bennet, I did not apply for the courtship in order to obtain it before Fitzwilliam could. I do understand why you might think that, but I assure you that I offered for your daughter for no other reason than because I have come to esteem her.”

The man was calm and apparently able to hold his temper. Good, thought Bennet. He would need his wits about him to keep up with Elizabeth.

“And Elizabeth accepted?” asked Bennet, though he knew it was rhetorical at that point.

“She did.”

“Then I give you both my permission and blessing. I believe you will be good for Lizzy, as you are a man who can match her in wit and understanding. Yet I suspect you will not attempt to stifle that intelligence which defines her character.

“But I will tell you what I told your cousin, sir,” added Bennet. “It is Lizzy’s choice and hers alone whether to accept you or not, and I do not consider a courtship to be binding. If she decides in the end that she does not wish to marry you, I will support her decision.”

“I understand,” replied Mr. Darcy. “I do not consider myself engaged to her. I will do everything in my power to induce her to accept my hand when I offer it. She is too great a prize to consider anything else.

“Very well,” replied Bennet with a nod. The young man was saying all the right things. The question was, would he follow through when the matter came to a head? Only time would tell.

––––––––

F ITZWILLIAM VERY NEARLY got up and followed Darcy and Bingley, joining them on their visit to Longbourn. In the end, however, he decided against it, though he could not quite understand the reason himself. Giving Darcy unfettered access to Miss Elizabeth seemed akin to a disaster. But when he considered going along with them, the memory of Miss Elizabeth’s face as she informed him she did not wish for a closer connection with him entered his mind, and he was taken aback by it again. If she was so disinclined, why would he impose himself on her?

It was a matter Fitzwilliam could not quite understand—why she would refuse him, yet accept Darcy when his position was so clearly inferior to Fitzwilliam’s own. A small voice inside his head added a question to the cacophony of voices fighting for supremacy in his mind—why was it so important that he win her anyway?

This last question became more and more prevalent in Fitzwilliam’s mind the longer the day dragged on, but Fitzwilliam did his best to ignore it. There was little to occupy himself. Bingley and Darcy were both, of course, gone to Longbourn. The only other gentleman resident of the estate was Hurst, but even if Fitzwilliam enjoyed his company at times, he was often an inadequate companion. Today was not the best of times, for he was sleeping off an excess of drink from the previous night.

Finally, in desperation, Fitzwilliam had his horse saddled and rode into Meryton, seeking relief from his tumultuous thoughts. Perhaps a little time perusing Meryton’s shops would allow him to finally bring his wayward thoughts under control. At the very least, it was better than brooding in his room or pacing the sitting-room, waiting for Bingley and Darcy to return.

As was typical for an early afternoon, the streets of the small town were abustle with those going about their business. Here and there, the more elaborate dress of a gentlewoman stood out against the drab clothing of the lower classes. But he did not see anyone he knew, which suited Fitzwilliam well. He spent some time in the bookshop, but he was not Darcy and could not spend hours there. Soon he was engaged in wandering up and down the main street, peering in through dusty shop windows at the merchandise inside. It was while he was thus engaged that he was interrupted by the sound of a detested voice.

“I never thought to see you slumming in a small market down, Fitzwilliam.”

Fitzwilliam straightened and turned to face the smirking visage of Wickham. “You do not have the right to address me in such an informal way, Wickham. You will address me as ‘Lord Chesterfield’ if you wish to keep your freedom.”

“Of course, my lord,” said Wickham, dropping into a mocking bow. “You have my apologies for neglecting to show you the proper respect.” Wickham paused and peered about. “I suppose Darcy is somewhere nearby? It is rare that you not in each other’s company when you are in the same neighborhood.”

A pang for the strained state of his friendship with his cousin ripped through Fitzwilliam’s heart, but he pushed it aside. “Darcy is at Longbourn, I believe. I had no business there, so I did not impose upon them.”

“Why would you need a matter of business as an excuse to visit a neighbor? Has business replaced good manners?”

Fitzwilliam fixed Wickham with a level look. “Why this interest in my doings, Wickham? What is it to you if I call on the Bennets?”

“It is nothing at all.”

“Then why speak of it?”

The shrug with which Wickham responded was casual and entirely false. What the man’s purpose was, Fitzwilliam could not quite determine. But Fitzwilliam was certain he had some reason for accosting him in the streets, and knowing Wickham, it could not be good.

“To be honest, I had thought you had some particular reason for going to Longbourn. Or have my eyes deceived me?”

“When have you ever been honest?”

Wickham’s eyes flashed. “Is it not odd that much of what you have heard of me has come from Darcy? To the best of my knowledge, you and I have never had any reason to quarrel.”

Fitzwilliam snorted. “Are you trying to inform me that Darcy has misrepresented you in some way?”

“I know not precisely what Darcy has told you, so I cannot say one way or another. But it does strike me as strange that while you and I have never had any disputes between us, you assume that I have always been in the wrong. The one common factor here is Darcy.”

“And you did not take three thousand pounds in exchange for giving up the living? You are not a degenerate wastrel, some of which I have seen for myself? You did not leave debts behind at every place in which you have ever stayed, ruining the livelihoods of good and honest men for nothing more than your own selfish desires? Are you not that kind of man?”

“I do not wish to rehash old matters—”

“I do,” replied Fitzwilliam. “If you claim that you are not the man Darcy has represented you to be, then you must be accusing Darcy of falsehood. Tell me at once, Wickham—have you not engaged in all these activities and more?”

“It matters little what I say. I am not an angel. I have never claimed to be. But my behavior has not been as bad as Darcy claims.”

“Then explain how he has misrepresented you.”

Wickham fixed him with a stony look. “There is little to be gained, for you are already set against me. Consider this, however: while you slum in Meryton, looking through shop windows at merchandise in which you have no interest, Darcy is at Longbourn making love to the woman you want as your own. He has always behaved in this manner, for he has always assumed that whatever he wants is his by right. The question is, what will you do about it?”

Leaving those final words echoing in his ears, Wickham turned and walked away, leaving Fitzwilliam to think. Was what the man said the truth?

But the moment passed, and Fitzwilliam’s eyes found Wickham as he walked away, glaring at him. Wickham was nothing more than a snake, his forked tongue spewing lies wherever he went. Though Fitzwilliam had Darcy’s word about the manner in which he had lived his life to a large extent, he had actually seen some of the debt receipts, had seen the contract which exchanged the money for Wickham’s claim on the living. For the other matters, while Fitzwilliam had not as much experience with Wickham as Darcy had, he had seen enough to know that Wickham was not a good man.

But the voice in the back of his head whispered to him, repeating what Wickham had said about Darcy and the Bennets, and his ire from the previous day began to rise again, bringing with it the bitterness of being rejected by the woman he wanted. She had chosen Darcy, and Fitzwilliam still had no notion of why.

Still chewing on his thoughts, Fitzwilliam turned and made his way to the end of town where he had tied his horse’s reins to a post. The matter still churned within his mind, though Wickham had largely been forgotten. As such, it did not occur to Fitzwilliam to wonder how Wickham knew of his dealings with the Bennet family and, in particular, Miss Elizabeth.