Page 9 of What Comes Between Cousins

T HE MOMENT THE MILITIA officer and Darcy’s personal nemesis left, Miss Lydia rounded on him.

“What did you say to Mr. Wickham?” demanded she. “The poor man fled because of your incivility.”

Surprised, Darcy turned on Miss Lydia, a retort springing to his lips. He restrained himself, but before he could speak, Fitzwilliam stepped in.

“I can well imagine what Darcy said to Wickham, Miss Lydia. But now is not the time or the place for that discussion. Come—let me escort you back to your home.”

Lydia regarded the viscount for a moment, her gaze straying to Darcy himself again before she nodded and accepted Fitzwilliam’s arm. The rest of the Bennet sisters had realized something was occurring, for they had all turned their attention to their youngest sibling. That was when Darcy realized that the sisters were not alone that day; they were accompanied by a tall portly man whom Darcy had never met.

“Ah, yes,” said Miss Elizabeth, correctly sensing the train of his thoughts.

Before it became awkward—she could not introduce the man until Darcy requested it, after all—Darcy smiled at her and nodded. “We would be pleased if you would introduce your friend to us, Miss Elizabeth.”

With obvious relief, Miss Elizabeth said: “Please allow me to introduce our father’s cousin, Mr. William Collins. Mr. Collins, this is Lord Anthony Fitzwilliam, the Viscount Chesterfield, and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, his cousin.”

Darcy and Fitzwilliam bowed to the man, but Mr. Collins did not respond, for there was a look of such stupefaction on his face that for a moment he could not respond. At length, however, he found his tongue. Darcy wished he had not.

“Did I hear aright? Am I in the august presence of two of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s esteemed nephews, including—though I never thought I would be in the presence of a peer—the honorable Viscount Chesterfield?”

“I believe you have it all in order, old man,” replied Fitzwilliam. He shot an amused grin at Darcy, but Darcy only shook his head. They were both aware of the kind of man with whom their aunt liked to surround herself. “But perhaps it would be best if we escorted the Bennet ladies home. Do you not agree?”

“Magnificent suggestion, your lordship!” agreed Mr. Collins with alacrity, completely misunderstanding Fitzwilliam’s sardonic tone. “Perhaps we could speak more as we are walking, for I have much to tell you. I have but recently come from Kent, from the parish your aunt in her gracious condescension has bestowed upon me, and I am sure I must have more recent intelligence as to the health and happiness of your excellent aunt and cousin. I would be happy to share it with you.”

“Trust me, Mr. Collins,” said Fitzwilliam, “I am sure your intelligence cannot be greater than that which we already possess.”

Darcy turned away to hide the smile which threatened to break out at Fitzwilliam’s overt mocking of the man, and he noticed that Miss Elizabeth was in similar straits. Eager to avoid being forced to walk with the parson, Darcy offered his arm to the young woman. Miss Elizabeth quickly accepted it, proving that she had no more wish to be beset by the parson than he had himself. Thus, with Fitzwilliam escorting Miss Lydia, Miss Bennet and Bingley paired up, and with Miss Mary walking close by Miss Catherine, they began to walk toward the edge of town and toward Longbourn.

It was several moments before Darcy heard the sound of hurried footsteps as Mr. Collins overcame his stupefaction and avoided being left behind. They all walked for some time in relative silence while Darcy considered his aunt and her penchant for surrounding herself with those who would never dare challenge her, wondering if she had not outdone herself in this instance.

“Mr. Darcy?”

The sound of his name on his companion’s lips brought Darcy from his reverie, and he looked to his side to see Miss Elizabeth watching with evident curiosity.

“I apologize, Miss Elizabeth. It seems I was wool-gathering.”

“It is no trouble, sir,” replied she. “I was simply curious—I had the distinct impression that your association with Mr. Wickham is not a happy one.”

“There is no association between us, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy shortly. “There has not been since before my father passed away, and there never shall be again.”

Miss Elizabeth nodded, though slowly. “It is as I suspected. I could easily see that you were not happy to see him.” She paused and then looked up at him. Darcy was surprised to see the determination in her eyes, though he knew he should not. “Can you tell me about him? I do not mean to pry into your private affairs, sir, but I would not remain ignorant if a viper has slithered into our midst.”

“It is not a secret, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy with a sigh. “My association with Mr. Wickham has not been a happy one since our childhoods. There are many who could tell you of him if you knew where to ask.

“He was my father’s favorite, you see since Wickham has always had the talent of recommending himself to those of greater consequence. My father, thinking highly of him, was his patron at school and later at Cambridge, and it is by his actions that Wickham has been educated. Unfortunately, my father was never privy to the other side of Wickham, never knew that underneath the charm and sense of humor existed a man of little morals and a proclivity for unsavory habits.”

Miss Elizabeth watched him, seeming to see right through him. It made Darcy more than a little uncomfortable, to own the truth, as did her next question. “I do not doubt you, sir. He struck me as someone who should not be trusted almost at once. But I wonder why you did not inform your father of his character. Might he not have taken steps to reclaim Mr. Wickham, or at least withdrawn his patronage?”

“You see clearer than I might have thought,” replied Darcy, turning to look up the path at those who were walking in front of them. “I have often asked myself that question, and while I have many excuses I told myself over the years, I have few real answers. Perhaps at the root of it, I wished to believe there was something left of my childhood companion. Perhaps I wished to believe him redeemable.”

The feeling of a hand covering his arm brought Darcy’s attention back to the woman at his side, and he noticed how she had brought her free hand up, to circle his arm. It was incongruous to the moment, but he noted how small and delicate her hands were. He almost fancied he could feel their heat through the fabric of her glove and his shirt, jacket, and overcoat, though he knew that was silly. Her eyes were solemn as she looked up at him, and he noted compassion in their depths directed at him. A warmth welled up within him. This was a woman of rare mettle and worth above the price of rubies.

“I understand, sir. You have my apologies—I should not have questioned you in such a manner.”

“On the contrary, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy, “you asked nothing that I have not asked myself.” Darcy brought his own hand up to cover hers. “I am certainly not offended, especially when your sympathy comforts me. Please take heed of my words: Mr. Wickham is not a good man, and I would not see you hurt.”

“I shall take care.” She paused and then said: “So your words to him were a warning?”

“Indeed,” replied Darcy. “I informed him that not only was Fitzwilliam acquainted with his commanding officer, but that he had better not run up debts in town, or it will go ill with him.”

Miss Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “He is a debtor?”

“Far more than you know. I myself hold enough of his debts to see him in prison for the rest of his life.”

“Then I shall warn my father. I am certain he will speak with the merchants about offering credit.”

“There is no need. As soon as we arrive at Longbourn, Fitzwilliam and I will speak with your father. Furthermore, I do not doubt Fitzwilliam will visit Colonel Forster and warn him, and he will, in turn, warn the shopkeepers. Fitzwilliam still has many contacts in the army, and if Wickham steps out of line, he may just discover that joining the militia was the worst mistake he has ever made.”

Miss Elizabeth grinned at that moment, and though such talk was not the sort of subject to inspire glee, Darcy thought he understood. This was a young woman who lived in this town and who would be in danger because of Wickham’s habits. Furthermore, Darcy knew first hand that her two youngest sisters, still silly and immature, would be prime targets for a libertine such as Wickham. She would naturally wish them to be protected.

“While I cannot wish for the ill fortune of another,” said she, “I hope Mr. Wickham is not here long.”

“I agree with you, Miss Bennet. It would be best for all concerned if he would simply resign his commission and leave. But Wickham has never been prudent. I expect we will be required to suffer his presence for at least some time.” Darcy turned and regarded her, attempting to impart exactly how serious he was. “You should take great care when you are near Mr. Wickham. He is not a good man.”

“I will do so, sir. I thank you for the warning.”

“Cousin Elizabeth!”

The sound of the parson’s voice startled them all, and they stopped walking, Darcy turning to look at the man askance. He was watching them, his eyes a little wild and filled with condemnation for the woman by Darcy’s side. What was the meaning of that?

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“P ERHAPS YOU SHOULD not be walking so closely with Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Collins. “I would be happy to escort you instead.”

“I believe I would appreciate Miss Elizabeth’s company myself,” said Lord Chesterfield.

It was clear that Mr. Collins desperately wished to object, but equally evident he was not capable of gainsaying anything so great a man said. He watched with suspicion as Elizabeth took the viscount’s arm, but he did not object. But he put himself into position behind them—behind Lord Chesterfield’s horse, actually, who was plodding along obediently after them. Lydia went to walk with Kitty again, while Mary took up a new position on Mr. Darcy’s arm.

“I hope you were not reluctant to walk with me, Miss Elizabeth,” said the viscount. “I apologize if I seemed officious, but it seemed that you—and Darcy, for that matter—required rescuing from your father’s cousin.”

Elizabeth turned an arch look on his lordship. “And why would Mr. Darcy require rescuing from an unassuming parson such as Mr. Collins?”

“I don’t know that I would call him unassuming,” replied Lord Chesterfield with a laugh. “Perhaps it is more appropriate to say that Mr. Collins required rescuing from my cousin . Darcy does not suffer fools easily, and though I have only just made your cousin’s acquaintance, he did not strike me as a man Darcy would willingly endure.”

This time it was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. “I believe, sir, you have just referred to my cousin as being a fool, though in an oblique way.”

The viscount grinned. “That is one interpretation of my statement, yes. However, in my defense, I will state that as I know my aunt well, I understand her preferences. I have often seen the likes of Mr. Collins in her employ, so it took no great discernment to understand his character.”

It was much the same as the thoughts Elizabeth herself had espoused, and she found it more than a little diverting. “If Mr. Collins possessed a deep, intricate character, I might accuse you of judging hastily. Fortunately for you, however, he does not. I cannot claim your likeness of him is incorrect.”

They walked on for several more moments, Elizabeth sneaking a surreptitious look behind to ensure that Mr. Collins was not close enough to have heard their conversation. The man appeared to be attempting to find some way to bypass the viscount’s horse, but when he saw Elizabeth looking at him, he scowled at her and moved to the side. Soon he was walking directly by their side and not far distant.

“It is kind of you, Lord Chesterfield, to favor my poor cousins with your presence. And Mr. Darcy, of course. But I would be happy to relieve you of the burden of escorting Cousin Elizabeth to her father’s home.”

“What burden do you call it, Mr. Collins?” asked Lord Chesterfield. “In fact, I find the Bennet ladies to be engaging and interesting. It is no burden at all to be in the presence of such estimable ladies.”

“And it does you credit, sir,” said Mr. Collins, blithely unaware of the note of censure in the viscount’s voice. “But I am aware of the ways of great men. You may withdraw without any stain of your honor or of any of us thinking any ill of you.”

“I believe, Mr. Collins, that I am much more aware of the ways of great men, as you call it, than are you. Though I would not presume to call myself great, I know my own purposes. I do not care for the insinuation in your tone or your words. I suggest you be silent before you anger one of your patroness’s nephews.”

Mr. Collins gaped at the viscount, for the anger in his words could not be mistaken, even by one such as the parson. While his attempt to pull Elizabeth away from Lord Chesterfield was foiled, it seemed he still did not wish to leave her in the man’s company. Instead, he turned the subject and began to speak of his patroness and her daughter, informing the viscount of every piece of information concerning their doings which he thought to be of interest. It was with the droning of his voice that they passed the remainder of the walk.

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B Y THE TIME THEY REACHED Longbourn, Fitzwilliam was ready to strangle a certain parson. The man’s ability to speak was positively without limit, and his words were so pompous, though mixed with a curious level of servility, that Fitzwilliam did not quite know what to make of him. There was something happening here, something Fitzwilliam could not quite understand, but which concerned Miss Elizabeth. Whether the man was attempting to court her—which was strange, as Fitzwilliam was certain they had only just become acquainted—he was not sure. But he seemed intent on pulling her away.

The Bennet sisters invited them to come inside, which was accepted with alacrity. Darcy shared a look with Fitzwilliam, and he understood it quite well—Mr. Bennet was to be warned about a certain officer who had joined the local regiment. Bingley entered the house and went with Miss Bennet into the sitting-room to entertain their mother. Fitzwilliam was grateful for the man’s amiable nature, for it allowed Fitzwilliam and Darcy to attend to the more important task.

“May I assume that you wish to see my father?” asked Miss Elizabeth, when Darcy came near.

Surprised, Fitzwilliam turned a questioning glance on his cousin. Darcy nodded. “Miss Elizabeth and I spoke something of Wickham when we were walking together.”

“Prudent,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Very well, then, Miss Elizabeth. Please lead us to Mr. Bennet.”

“Cousin Elizabeth!” exclaimed Mr. Collins at that moment. “Shall I escort you into the sitting-room?”

Fitzwilliam was reminded of the eagerness of a puppy, though Mr. Collins was certainly not so cute. He was also not amused by the parson’s continued attempt to interfere. “That will not be necessary, Mr. Collins. My cousin and I must speak with Mr. Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth is to guide us to him. You may go to the sitting-room. Miss Elizabeth will join you there after she returns.”

Though chagrinned, Mr. Collins did as he was bid. Fitzwilliam, however, did not miss the hardness of his glare at his cousin. Incensed, Fitzwilliam decided he had had enough of this man’s idiocy.

“I do not know what your issue is with Miss Elizabeth,” hissed Fitzwilliam, stepping close to Mr. Collins, “but I suggest you temper it, sir.” Mr. Collins stepped back in alarm, but Fitzwilliam only followed him. “I have witnessed your dark looks at her. I suggest you be a little more aware of the impression you are making to others and cease this objectionable behavior.”

Then Fitzwilliam turned and motioned to Miss Elizabeth to guide them away. She did so without comment, but Fitzwilliam thought he saw a glimmer of thanks in her eyes. What an odious relation the Bennets had!

Mr. Bennet’s study was near the vestibule, down a short hall which led to the back of the house. Miss Elizabeth led them to the door and knocked. When the command was given, she opened it and ushered them inside. The master of the estate was sitting behind a sturdy oak desk with a book in his hand. It was evident he was a great reader on the order of Darcy, for his collection was impressive.

There was also obvious affection between father and daughter, for the man smiled and set his book down when he spied his daughter, though he did look at her askance. “Lizzy, my dear. I might wonder why my most sensible daughter would suddenly appear in my doorway with two gentlemen in tow. Though I would hardly accuse you of silliness, I might wonder if they have both seen your worth and have come to blows over you.”

“Oh, Papa!” said Miss Elizabeth. It was clear this was a common reaction to his teasing. Darcy appeared a little shocked at the man’s sportive words, but for Fitzwilliam’s part, he could only grin at the warmth between father and daughter.

“Actually, Father,” said she, this time speaking with a slight warning edge in her voice, “Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Darcy have, indeed, requested the opportunity to speak with you. I believe the subject of which they wish to speak is an important one.”

“Then by all means, please have a seat, gentlemen.” Mr. Bennet directed a shrewd look at his daughter. “Might I assume that Elizabeth knows something of your reason for seeking me out?”

“She does, sir,” replied Darcy.

“In that case, as she is the most sensible of my daughters, and assuming you do not mean to speak of matters unsuitable for a young lady’s ears, I would suggest she stay with us for your communication.”

Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy and arched an eyebrow at him, which Darcy returned with a shrug. It would be easy enough to gloss over the details sufficiently to keep the subject matter appropriate. Thus, Fitzwilliam turned back to Mr. Bennet and nodded. Fitzwilliam and Darcy sat on the chairs in front of the desk, and when Miss Elizabeth had retrieved another from the side of the room, they began.

“As I am the one most acquainted with the gentleman in question, I suppose the burden of this communication falls to me.” Fitzwilliam did not miss the emphasis in Darcy’s words, and he could not agree more on the content of the man’s character. “When we met your daughters in Meryton today, they were making the acquaintance of a man known to me. It appears he has purchased a commission in the army and is to join the regiment.”

Darcy paused and turned to Fitzwilliam. “That in itself is odd, I suppose. I know for a fact Wickham has not possessed the means to make such a purchase for at least the past two years. I wonder where he obtained it.”

“He is not unknown to other men of means,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Maybe he persuaded one of them to purchase it for him to be rid of him, or perhaps he won it in a game of chance. Regardless, it is not germane to the subject.”

“True,” replied Darcy. He turned back to Mr. Bennet. “As my cousin has stated, Wickham’s means of coming to Meryton is not relevant. The fact that he is present at all is.”

“Of what do you have to accuse him? Why is his coming of such concern?” asked Mr. Bennet. Fitzwilliam watched the man, wondering at his manner. His countenance was difficult to read, and he almost wondered if Mr. Bennet was listening with the appropriate level of gravity.

“His presence must be of concern when a man has young daughters and Wickham is known as a seducer of women.”

A pregnant silence ensued. Mr. Bennet seemed reflective for several moments during which he made no response, until, at length, he nodded. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I can see where that would be a concern. If I may clarify, is this Mr. Wickham of whom you speak merely a fortune hunter, or do his proclivities go beyond such mundane endeavors.”

There was just enough sardonic disdain in Mr. Bennet’s voice to tell Fitzwilliam that though his manners might not be what he might have expected, the man was listening carefully.

“You are correct in that Wickham primarily seeks a way to enrich himself,” replied Darcy. “But that does not take into account, for example, the maid who works on my estate he seduced. No, Mr. Bennet, while one might take comfort in the lack of fortune preventing his depravities, in fact, that is no protection at all. Wickham cares not—all he concerns himself with is his own gratification.

“Furthermore, Wickham is a debtor and a gamester. I myself have direct knowledge of his proclivities, for I have made good his debts both in Cambridge, where we attended university together, and in the town of Lambton, which is near my estate.”

“If he is all this, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet, “then why is he not in prison even now?”

Darcy instantly became defensive, but Fitzwilliam, who had often counseled Darcy in the same way, only nodded at Mr. Bennet. “I could not agree more, sir.”

“He was my late father’s favorite,” replied Darcy. “I have stayed my hand for my father’s memory.”

“If you will excuse my saying so,” said Mr. Bennet, “I believe your father would be disappointed in what this Mr. Wickham has become.” Mr. Bennet sighed. “But I cannot gainsay you in this matter. I will, of course, see that my girls are warned against him. I will also attempt to do something with the merchants. An unscrupulous man such as you are describing may ruin the economy of the town and leave the shopkeepers without means to feed their families.”

“We will do something on that front, Mr. Bennet,” said Fitzwilliam. Darcy turned to regard him, and Fitzwilliam nodded at his cousin, to which Darcy responded tightly. “I am known to the colonel of his regiment. I will ensure Colonel Forster knows exactly what kind of man has joined his ranks. A further warning to the merchants should ensure he is unable to run up debts as he usually does. With any luck, when the neighborhood is warned against him, he will flee for greener pastures.”

“Thank you, Lord Chesterfield, Mr. Darcy. Your warning is greatly appreciated.”

“It is no trouble, Mr. Bennet,” replied Darcy. He paused and seemed to struggle with what response to make for several moments before he sighed. “It may be that it will not be much longer before I use his debts against him. For many years I held out hope that Wickham could be induced to change his ways. In the past few years, however, I have settled for simply washing my hands of him. That was not the best way to handle the situation, I know.”

“I do not mean to chastise you, sir,” said Mr. Bennet. “But I am grateful all the same.”

They spoke for a few more moments before Fitzwilliam and Darcy excused themselves to make their way to Meryton for an urgent appointment. Miss Elizabeth, who had stayed silent the entire time they were in the study, showed them to the door, sending a maid to summon Bingley. When they were prepared to depart, she turned to them.

“Thank you for your warning, sirs. I will ensure my sisters and friends are alerted against Mr. Wickham.”

“It is no trouble, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Fitzwilliam warmly. “Please give our regards to your mother and sisters.”

Then they left. For Fitzwilliam’s part, he could not wait to spike Wickham’s wheel. The man was a snake. Fitzwilliam was anticipating a bit of well-deserved retribution.