Six Inches Deep in Mud

Chapter 13

F ortunately, the rain stopped this morning.

I feel like I am carrying a heavy burden in my stomach as well as in my chest every time I think of Mr Darcy — which means constantly. In the light of Mr Collins’s disclosure regarding the peculiar engagement, Mr Darcy’s sudden return to London at his aunt’s request takes a meaning I do not care to contemplate.

My sleepless night has helped me draw some conclusions, which have provided me with some explanations but no relief of grief or pain.

Papa joked about Mr Collins’s claim about the engagement. While I know Papa’s inclination make fun of everything and everyone, this time it has made me think there might have been some sense in his teasing. If there is some sort of understanding, Mr Darcy is certainly not eager to accept it or act upon it. However, even if the arrangement is not to his liking, he has not broken it either, though he could have done before now. So he has allowed his cousin and his aunt to believe he will fulfil their expectations; therefore they expect him to propose at any time. His actions are deplorable, no matter from what perspective you look at them.

I am convinced that no other reason but admiration, and, yes, some sort of attraction, induced Mr Darcy to display those gestures of affection towards me. He told me as much, and the little reasoning I have left believes his confession. He must have some tender feelings for me; otherwise he would not have acted so affectionately towards me. But that does not negate the fact that he is bound to his cousin by an arrangement made with or without his consent that he has clearly not broken. And the fact that he did not mention it to me makes him deceptive and dishonest. I have never suspected him to lack honour, even when I despised his arrogance and conceit. But a man who is engaged to a woman and expresses admiration and even love to another woman cannot claim honour and responsibility.

I must force my reason and wit to conquer the weakness of my heart. In this matter, I can see only two choices: either Mr Collins is speaking nonsense and has mistaken and misrepresented what he heard, or he is right and Mr Darcy is engaged to his cousin. If the latter is the case, I shall not allow a single improper word to be said between us when he returns; if he returns. Even if he is the most honest man and he truly fell in love with me and is ready to break his engagement to his cousin for me, I cannot accept that. I could not accept building my felicity on another woman’s misery or causing a scandal that might ruin Mr Darcy’s name and split his family apart.

Oh! I am torturing myself thinking of what could be worse: knowing his feelings for me are not true and honest or the grief of finding they are genuine but there can be no happy ending for such a love.

Two days ago, I was certain Mr Darcy was the one man in the world perfectly suited to me — my perfect match. Now, I understand that Mr Darcy is the last man in the world whom I could ever marry, even if he asks me, which is very unlikely.

Either he has deceived me or he has been honest with me but intended to hurt another. I have to stop turning these thoughts over in my mind, else I shall go mad.

***

“Kitty and I are going to Meryton to see Maria Lucas,” Lydia says during breakfast. “I wonder whether Mr Bingley has invited Denny and Sanderson to the ball! If he has not, I shall ask him to do it!”

“Lydia! You cannot ask Mr Bingley to invite someone against his will!” Jane says.

“Of course I can! Perhaps Mr Bingley forgot about it. How can we enjoy the ball if there are no pleasant men to dance with?”

“I shall certainly dance with all of my fair cousins,” Mr Collins declares, causing Lydia to roll her eyes. I could not care less who will attend the ball. I have no interest in dancing. If Mr Darcy returns on time and asks me to dance, I might agree, though. It would be an excellent moment to confront him.

I am well aware that my anger and frustration are childish. I am well aware that my entire response is unreasonable. What irritates me the most is the realisation that I was the one in the wrong more than him. I initiated or facilitated encounters and opportunities for careless behaviour. I caused the fall due to my unreasonable fear of a gentle horse’s touch on my back. Mr Darcy hit his head because of me; he kissed my hand and my wrist due to that fall. Had someone observed us, it would not be something so disgraceful or never heard of. I kissed him on the cheek, and I touched his lips . My gesture was more inappropriate than his, more shameless than his, more ruinous to our reputations than his. For my present perturbed state of mind, I have to blame myself as much as I blame him; perhaps more.

“Jane, Lizzy, will you come to Meryton with us?” Lydia asks.

“I shall go if Lizzy wishes to,” Jane answers. I am in no mood for company, but some fresh air would be welcome. Besides, Mama is already nagging me about being nice to Mr Collins, and I cringe hearing her. Surely she cannot imagine I would consider him or be the kind of wife that would please Mr Collins and Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

“If you are all going, you should join them, Mr Collins,” Mama says.

“That is an excellent idea,” Papa agrees, and I throw him a vexed look. He is so irritated by Mr Collins already that he is ready to sacrifice our comfort for his own.

When we are all ready to leave, Mary withdraws, claiming a sudden headache. I cannot say how genuine her headache is, but mine is real, and I am tempted to change my mind too and stay at home, but I cannot disappoint Jane.

We walk together, and Mr Collins makes his way to my side and talks pompous nonsense. I am determined to pay little attention to him, and poor sweet Jane is forced to politely address him from time to time, which is enough encouragement for him to keep talking.

“I wonder whether Lady Catherine will return to Rosings before or after I travel back to Kent.”

“Should you not return soon, so she can find you there? She might need you,” I suggest with some pique.

“How considerate of you, my dear cousin Elizabeth. Indeed, her ladyship might need me, but she herself allowed me to leave for a few days, longer if needed, but no longer than a fortnight, she said. Therefore, I am certain I shall not disappoint her even if I stay until after the ball. Especially considering—”

“Would her ladyship not disapprove of you attending a ball? Is it appropriate for a clergyman?” I interrupt him.

“I believe it is. Especially since I shall do my duty by you, dear cousins. And Mr Bingley is a gentleman who happens to be friends with Mr Darcy. It could not be a better arrangement.”

Sadly, I cannot argue with him, and I let him continue to talk, which he does until we enter Meryton. Lydia and Kitty immediately leave the rest of us behind and hurry to the window of the first shop, looking for something to purchase.

I call to them to wait for us, and they do, but then they are distracted by voices on the other side of the street. Suddenly they begin to wave towards a group of men in uniform. There are several officers, who wave back then walk towards us. I am in no disposition for any company, including that of officers, but I hope that, with more men in the group, Mr Collins will finally be silenced.

“Look,” Lydia cries, “that is Denny — he has finally returned from London! He went away for a few days, and I was afraid he would miss the ball.”

“But who is with him?” Kitty asks. “Lieutenant Pratt and someone else.”

“Lydia, Kitty, please keep your voices down,” Jane demands as they near us. I study the subject of my younger sisters’ interest; besides the two officers, my attention is caught by a third young man whom I have never seen before.

“Who is that?” Lydia whispers, giggling. “La, look how handsome he is! I hope they are coming to talk to us!”

The three gentlemen stop near us; it would be rude not to speak to them, since Kitty and Lydia have been pointing at them.

“Ladies, how wonderful to see you again,” Mr Denny addresses us directly.

We all curtsey, and Lydia responds, “We are happy to see you too! How was the trip to London?”

“Agreeable. We returned to Meryton yesterday. I shall take this opportunity to introduce to your acquaintance my friend Mr George Wickham, who has just accepted a commission in our corps.”

“So, you are an officer too? You will look so handsome in your uniform!” Lydia declares, disregarding Jane’s disapproving look.

“I am fortunate and grateful to be able to respond that I am an officer, indeed,” the young man says. His voice is as pleasant as his handsome figure, and his smile is friendly and unaffected.

Jane introduces Mr Collins too, and a small conversation begins. Lydia and Kitty seem utterly charmed by the young men, especially by Mr Wickham. Soon enough, Maria and Charlotte Lucas approach us, and a new round of introductions is performed. I am still in low spirits, so I choose to watch from a few paces back.

Mr Wickham’s appearance is greatly in his favour; he has all the best parts of a man’s beauty: a fine countenance, a good figure, and a pleasing address. Immediately after the introductions, he shows a happy readiness for conversation, friendly and unassuming.

I hear Mr Collins mentioning Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and I cringe.

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park?” Mr Wickham asks, drawing my attention to him even more.

“Yes,” Mr Collins answers, overjoyed as if he has won a prize. “Do you happen to know her ladyship?”

“Very slightly. I happened to meet her many years ago, but I am certain she will not remember me.”

“Probably not. She is a woman of great consequence who has met many people in her life, but she only remembers a few,” Mr Collins replies with a trace of stupid pride. I look at Mr Wickham and see him smiling.

The mere mention of that lady’s name gives me shivers of distress, and I wonder whether we shall now be subjected to a duet of praises for the great Lady Catherine. However, Mr Wickham changes the subject, turning the discussion towards the condition of the roads and the weather in London compared with Meryton.

We are still standing and talking together very agreeably when the sound of horses draws our notice. Mr Bingley is approaching, together with his brother, Mr Hurst. The gentlemen obviously see us, and when they reach us, they dismount and begin the usual greetings. Mr Bingley stands near Jane, Mr Hurst a few steps behind. The introductions are performed, then Mr Bingley says, “Miss Bennet, we were on our way to Longbourn to enquire after you and to introduce Mr Hurst to your father.”

“How kind of you, sir,” Jane replies. “I am sure my father would be pleased to see you. We shall return to Longbourn soon.”

“Oh…then may we accompany you?”

“Of course,” Jane agrees with a becoming blush and a sweet smile. At least she and her Mr Bingley look happy. I am dying of curiosity to find out whether he has news about the man whom I should not think about. But of course, I shall not ask. Perhaps on our walk back to Longbourn there will be some mention of him.

“Mr Bingley, do you have news from Mr Darcy?” Mr Collins asks bluntly, and I feel incredibly grateful to him for a second. “I fervently hope that he will return in time for me to make his acquaintance before I leave Hertfordshire.”

“Not yet, but I am expecting a letter from him today,” Mr Bingley answers. “Unless something urgent alters his plans, he will keep his promise. He always does.”

“Would this gentleman you are talking about be Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire?” Mr Wickham suddenly interjects. I look at him and notice a frown on his face that was not there earlier. Also, his countenance has lost some colour, his smile has faded, and he looks around as if searching for someone.

“Yes,” Mr Bingley responds. “My friend, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Are you acquainted with him, sir?”

“I am,” he answers briefly.

“What a pleasant coincidence!” Mr Bingley exclaims with his usual amiability.

“It is a coincidence, indeed,” Mr Wickham says in a low voice. “I would not have guessed in a hundred years that Darcy would be in Meryton.”

It might be my excessive interest in the subject that makes me notice Mr Wickham’s anxiety. I cannot guess the reason for it, but it is certainly related to Mr Darcy. Can I have found someone as disappointed in Mr Darcy as I am? Everyone else seems to worship him, so it would be a diverting change. Yes, I know I sound petty and resentful, even to my own mind.

“Mr Bingley, since we are all here, may I ask whether you have invited Mr Denny, Mr Pratt, and Mr Wickham to the ball?” Lydia asks before I have time to stop her. Poor Jane’s countenance is flushed, surely from embarrassment.

“Of course I have, Miss Lydia,” Mr Bingley assures her. “I presented Colonel Forster with an invitation for all the officers.”

“How wonderful and generous of you, Mr Bingley!” Lydia exclaims. “Mr Wickham, I hope you like to dance!”

“There are few things that give me more pleasure, Miss Lydia,” Mr Wickham says, his smile now returned.

The conversation continues for a few more minutes, then we are ready to return home, but Lydia and Kitty demand to stay longer with Maria Lucas. I am strongly opposed to it — I cannot even imagine what they could get up to, left by themselves, but my friend Charlotte assures me that I may leave them for another hour or so, as she is to accompany her sister Maria and will take care of them.

“In fact, my dear Eliza, we shall talk some more tomorrow, shall we not? We are hosting a small dinner party tomorrow evening, and I believe Mama has already sent an invitation for you all at Longbourn.”

“I do not see why not, dearest Charlotte,” I reply to my old friend. “I doubt Papa will join us, but Mama will surely be looking forward to the party.”

“And Mr Collins, you are included in the invitation too, of course.”

“Thank you, Miss Lucas. I shall be honoured to meet your family,” Mr Collins says.

“Mr Bingley,” Charlotte continues, “my father has written to you too. The presence of the Netherfield party would be greatly appreciated.”

“The pleasure will be mine — ours — I am sure,” Mr Bingley responds with a quick glance at Jane.

After that, Jane, Mr Collins, Mr Bingley, Mr Hurst, and I finally return to Longbourn, while Lydia and Kitty remain with Charlotte and Maria and the three officers. My sisters are too young to be left unattended, but there is little Jane and I can do if Mama and Papa permit them unrestricted liberty in their actions and manners.

While Jane walks with Mr Bingley and Mr Hurst, Mr Collins bothers me all the way back and continues in the same manner once we arrive home. Only later on, after Mr Bingley and Mr Hurst have departed, can I excuse myself and return to my room.

It is not a clever or particularly well-thought-out move, though, as, once I have escaped from Mr Collins’s tedious conversation, my thoughts turn to Mr Darcy, and my conflicted feelings return and with them the tears, which I struggle to fight.

I descend to the drawing-room later on; happily, Mr Collins has withdrawn to his chamber to rest, which gives all of us some well-deserved respite from him.

Lydia and Kitty’s return causes some commotion, as they relate to Mama all the details about the officers, their new acquaintance, and especially Mr Wickham’s qualities.

“Mama, if you could only see how handsome he is! I hope he will call on us soon. I invited him and Denny and Pratt. But Mr Wickham is the best of all. You will see them tomorrow evening. They will attend Sir William’s party too!”

“I look forward to meeting them, Lydia. There is nothing more pleasant for the eyes than a handsome man in uniform. I used to say that when I was your age,” Mama almost titters.

“Oh, and I think Mr Wickham hates Mr Darcy, which is no wonder, as we all do, but we did not say anything because he is Mr Bingley’s friend,” Lydia continues.

“Lydia! Why would you say such a thing?” Jane cries.

“Oh, hush girl, it is the truth,” Mama says. “We all feel uncomfortable when Mr Darcy comes, and we all know he despises us, so why would we not despise him too? Now tell me, Lydia, what about Mr Wickham?”

I feel offended on Mr Darcy’s behalf, but perhaps he does deserve to be despised. But not by them, and not for some imagined reasons. My mother and sisters’ ill feelings towards him affect me, though I know he does not deserve as much.

“I am not sure what happened, but Mr Wickham said Mr Darcy had been very cruel to him and did him a great injustice. He asked us not to tell Mr Collins or Mr Bingley because they would certainly favour Mr Darcy.”

“Yes,” Kitty interjects, “and we told Mr Wickham that Mr Darcy has been rude to our entire family, that he called Lizzy tolerable and refused to dance with her, and that everybody in Meryton hates him. And Mr Wickham was very happy to hear that and said this was exactly the behaviour he would have expected from him!”

“You should not have had such a conversation and disclosed such things to a stranger!” I finally interject angrily. “What sort of manners are these? You revealed details about your sisters to a man you just met? Have you no common sense? This is outrageous!”

“Come now, Lizzy, the girls said nothing bad about you but about Mr Darcy. I understand he offended you, but the whole of Meryton already knows about it,” Mama says conciliatorily. It sounds as if she is belittling the importance of that incident and insulting me, but I cannot tell her that, so I frown at Lydia, trying to convey all my ire.

“Mr Bingley would be very upset if he found out that we had gossiped about his best friend,” Jane adds.

“Do not worry, we shall be careful not to be heard, at least until he proposes to you,” Mama says, again with an ease that clearly mortifies Jane. I just pray that Mr Bingley is smitten enough with Jane to overlook the flaws of my family.

Even if Mr Darcy admires me, he will never overlook the constant display of ill behaviour from Mama, Lydia, and Kitty. Why did I allow myself to imagine that a man like Mr Darcy would admit such a complete lack of decorum anywhere near his house or his sister? How could I have been so silly?

After dinner, when I have resigned myself to another restless night, I finally reflect more upon Lydia’s words in regard to Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham. So, my first guess was correct; Mr Wickham is well acquainted with Mr Darcy and not on friendly terms.

His claim that Mr Darcy has been cruel to him is intriguing, and I am curious to know more, but I shall certainly not enquire. I find it puzzling enough that an officer chose to mention something so important to a girl of fifteen he had only just been introduced to and who surely does not look wise or trustworthy.

I shall not deny that I am strongly tempted to appreciate Mr Wickham more than I should if only because Mr Darcy wronged him in one way or another. If he truly wronged him. I feel as resentful as Mr Darcy once claimed to be, and I have been so deeply hurt that I am willing to favour anyone who has been equally mistreated by the arrogant gentleman with no consideration for their feelings.