Darcy in Want of a Wife

Chapter 43

Sitting Room

Rosings

Elizabeth stepped into the room and glared at Wickham, who was now sitting on a wooden chair, his nose bleeding sluggishly, his face twisted into an odd mixture of fear and resentment. The man’s eyes widened at her entrance, and he cringed.

“Miss Bennet,” he said thickly through lips that were noticeably swollen, having taken part of the brunt of Darcy’s punch.

Elizabeth took a few steps forward and said, though narrowed eyes, “I would hit you myself, but I see that my husband already did so, with far more strength than I would manage.”

“Your husband?” Wickham whispered.

There was a gasp from her left, and she turned her attention on the only unfamiliar female in the room, who was seated on a wingbacked chair, with a young footman looming ominously near her. The woman in question was noticeably shivering as she gazed at Elizabeth with saucer eyes.

“And you,” Elizabeth continued, “must be Mrs. Younge, who worked with a villain to attack my innocent sister!”

Mrs. Younge gulped and said, “It was Wickham’s idea.”

“As if you did not wish for money as well!” Wickham snarled, though his words were distorted by his missing teeth and bruised lips.

“I do not care whose idea it was,” Elizabeth snapped. “You both, along with your brother, Mrs. Younge, conspired to destroy my family by kidnapping my precious sister. If I had my way, all three of you would hang!”

Mrs. Younge fainted.

Wickham shot a sullen, exasperated look at his now unconscious conspirator, and said, “There is no need to bind me, Darcy. It is not as if I can get away, and this rope is hurting my wrist.”

“I daresay it is,” Elizabeth said coldly. “After all, my sister was forced to attack you in order to escape. Perhaps you will be fortunate and die of some terrible infection before you hang.”

It had genuinely not been a good few days for Wickham. He had failed to ruin Mary Bennet, he had been bitten, and now he was captured by his greatest enemy and was being threatened with death.

He pretended to faint.

/

Carriage

On the Road to London

The Next Day

“I feel as if we have spent half of our marriage traveling,” Darcy said, pulling his wife closer to him as the carriage, in spite of its excellent springs, jolted a little.

“I like it,” Elizabeth said promptly. “I have not traveled much in my life, and I thoroughly enjoy seeing new places.”

“Then you will likely be pleased by our upcoming trip to Pemberley.”

She craned her head awkwardly in order to kiss him on the lips. “I cannot tell you how much I look forward to seeing your home … our home, Fitzwilliam. I know we need to stay in London for a little longer, but I relish the thought of spending the winter in Derbyshire with you and Georgiana.

He kissed her again, and for five minutes the couple was silent.

“What do you think should happen to Wickham and his conspirators?” he finally asked.

Elizabeth blew out a breath and said, “Before I express my desires, I want to hear of yours. I know that as much as you despise the man now, you were once friends with George Wickham.”

“When we were boys, yes,” Darcy said, “but that is entirely at an end. He attempted to run away with my sister and forcibly abducted yours. I despise him.”

Elizabeth nodded solemnly and said, “Then if you are at peace with it, and if it can be arranged without causing scandal, I think Wickham, at least, should hang. He deserves it, and Mary would sleep better knowing he can never attack her again.”

“I agree,” Darcy replied. “I am not certain as to the appropriate fate of Mrs. Younge and her brother, but Wickham was the instigator of the plot. Though in fairness, my aunt was the true instigator. She is the one who paid for Wickham’s misdeeds.”

“Yes, but there is a difference between paying a man to accost a young woman and actually accosting the young woman,” Elizabeth said. “Do not mistake me. I am horrified at Lady Catherine’s behavior. But, and I hope you will not take it amiss, she genuinely seems slightly mad to me.”

“I agree,” Darcy said and then sighed. “She has always been autocratic and demanding, but her mania appears to have progressed to something more. Anyone in her right mind would realize that it is ludicrously evil to pay a man to ruin a young woman in the hopes of forcing a gentleman to marry one’s daughter.”

“I think her permanent banishment to Yorkshire is. As for Mrs. Younge and her brother, I do not care a great deal whether they hang or are deported; I merely wish to be certain that they cannot cause further trouble for our family.”

“Will you permit me to deal with them myself, then?”

“I trust you to do what is right,” Elizabeth said, and kissed him again.

/

Matlock House

The Next Evening

Mary Bennet handed her hat to a maid and watched Charles and Jane Bingley, who were looking around curiously. The vestibule of Matlock House was large, with an elegant and intricate pattern of blue and green tiles.

Behind her, the butler opened the door again, and Mary turned as Elizabeth and Darcy stepped into the room. Elizabeth’s eyes lit up at the sight of her sisters, and she cried out, “Mary, you look wonderful!”

Mary smiled gratefully at this encouragement from her older sister. She was anxious about this dinner, as she had never before met an earl and countess. Moreover, she was nervous about her gown, which was by far the most expensive garment she had ever worn. Jane, and now Elizabeth, seemed to think that she was beautiful in her new dress, but were they merely being encouraging? She had been startled to look into the mirror before leaving the Bingleys’ residence; she hardly looked like herself, with her sophisticated garb and elegant hairstyle. In a way, it felt dishonest. Was it all too much?

“Indeed, Mary, you look very well today,” Darcy said, and Mary felt her body relax. She knew her sisters would paint her appearance in an overly favorable light, but Darcy was a rigidly honest gentleman, and she thought he was speaking the truth.

“May I escort you to the drawing room?” the butler asked courteously, and Darcy held out both arms and said, “Lead the way.”

Mary shyly took Darcy’s left arm, and Elizabeth took his right, and the group proceeded down the corridor and into a large room, which to Mary’s eyes seemed full of extremely well dressed individuals, all of whom rose from their seats at their entrance.

A finely dressed man of some sixty years turned away from the window and approached them, his aristocratic lips stretched into a welcoming smile.

“Mrs. Darcy, Darcy, welcome to our home,” he said. “Will you not introduce your relations?”

Darcy nodded and said, “May I please introduce my wife, Mrs. Darcy, my sister by marriage, Mrs. Bingley, her husband, Mr. Bingley, and my sister by marriage, Miss Bennet. Wife, relations, may I please introduce my aunt, the Countess of Matlock, my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy, her companion, Mrs. Annesley, my uncle, the Earl of Matlock, and his son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”

There were the requisite bows and curtsies, and Lady Matlock said, “Thank you for coming. It is wonderful to meet you all. Please, will you not sit down?”

Miss Darcy, a tall girl of some sixteen summers dressed in yellow silk, hurried over to greet her brother and Elizabeth, while Lady Matlock promptly engaged the Bingleys in conversation.

Mary hovered nervously for four seconds and then jumped as a deep male voice said, “Miss Bennet?”

She turned to discover that Colonel Fitzwilliam had approached from her left and was smiling reassuringly at her.

“Colonel,” she replied breathlessly.

“Would you care to sit down, Miss Bennet?”

She nodded, and allowed him to guide her to a pair of chairs near the largest window in the room, whereupon she lowered herself onto the elegant, and surprisingly comfortable, chair.

He took the seat across from her and, after glancing hastily around, quieted his voice and said, “Miss Bennet, I know this is a breach of propriety, but I wish to express my genuine awe with regard to your courageous escape from Wickham. You are a true heroine.”

Mary had never, in her entire life, been called a heroine, nor had she been gazed upon with such authentic admiration.

“Th… thank you, Colonel,” she stammered. “It was … I confess I was desperate…”

“Miss Bennet, I have served on the battlefields of the Continent and have met many a soldier who has frozen in the face of danger. I am amazed that in the midst of such a traumatic experience, you were able to choose the perfect time to escape. Truly, you are a remarkable woman.”

Mary flushed red at these words and found herself quite unable to speak. To her surprise and relief, the colonel immediately changed the subject to music, and within a minute, Elizabeth and Miss Darcy joined them. This allowed Mary to lapse into a more comfortable silence, but at least the ensuing discussion was an interesting one. She enjoyed music and was looking forward to working with one of the music masters here in London in the next weeks, a gift from the Bingleys.

The door opened, and the butler entered to announce dinner. Mary stood up with the others and found herself walking in on the arm of Colonel Fitzwilliam, with Miss Darcy on his other arm.

She had, at least, survived the first part of the evening without making a fool of herself. Now all she had to do was eat dinner and enjoy conversation with the ladies before it would be time to return to the safety of Half Moon Street.