The Art of Apology (Happiness in Marriage)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

D uring the brief moment Bennet had between being told that Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were at Longbourn and them actually entering the drawing room, he had decided to keep his attention on the latter to study how he and Jane were together. It might soon be time to have a serious discussion with the young man, and he supposed he ought to speak to Jane as well to discover what her feelings were. His eldest daughter was a sweet, gentle person, and Bennet believed he saw signs that she was falling in love with Mr Bingley. Given her nature, she would suffer greatly, and for a long while, if he did not return her regard. What sort of father would treat that possibility lightly?

When Mr Bingley announced that he had brought an invitation to a ball at Netherfield, Bennet almost wished he was elsewhere. How could the ladies be anything other than thrilled, and in that enthusiasm, excessively loud? It left him feeling as if knives were piercing his eardrums .

“A ball? Did you hear that, girls?” Mrs Bennet said. It was hardly necessary; all five of them were already talking about it. Lydia and Kitty were demanding answers to various questions about the arrangements and who else would be invited—such as the officers, who interested them far too much for Bennet’s liking—Mary and Lizzy had their heads bent together, Lizzy’s bright and eager expression radiating how pleased she was at the prospect of a private ball, and Jane was once again showing her value by managing to listen to her mother while also attempting to calm Lydia and Kitty and smile at Mr Bingley and thank him for the invitation.

“Sir, I wonder whether I might speak to you alone.”

He startled and turned to see that the quiet voice belonged to Mr Darcy, who stood beside him. Bennet nodded and led the way to his book-room.

“Please, sit.” Bennet gestured to an armchair. “Would you care for a drink?”

“I would, thank you. I am afraid that what I have to tell you is unpleasant. A subject I would rather avoid.”

“And some strong wine would help,” Bennet stated. Studying the younger man, he saw obvious signs of strain—shoulders slightly slumped and a heaviness about his eyes. Handing him a glass and choosing a chair near him rather than across his desk, Bennet added, “I cannot imagine what has happened, but if there is anything I can do to be of assistance, I shall try. I hope it is not bad news from your family.”

“No, no.” Mr Darcy shook his head and took a sip of wine. “It is about one of the new officers. I happened to see him in Meryton the other day, standing with your daughters. Mr Wickham. You see, he is known to me.”

Over the next few minutes, Mr Darcy explained their history and Mr Wickham’s dissolute behaviour, claiming he was a danger to young women—high and low born—and that he always accumulated a great deal of debt, both of business and honour. Mr Darcy’s serious mien and his offer to supply proof assured Bennet that he spoke the truth.

“Thank you for warning me,” he said. “I do not see why he would be interested in my girls. They have no fortune or connexions, as I assume you are aware, gossip being what it is.” He wanted to ensure Mr Darcy knew, because that would mean that his friend did too; it would not come as a shock should Mr Bingley eventually decide he wanted to marry Jane.

Mr Darcy nodded and said, “Unfortunately, Wickham’s jealousy or hatred towards me—whatever emotion is strongest in him at the moment—means that all he needs to know is that I am on friendly terms with your family. He has already sought to injure me by using my sister. If he would do that, seek to harm a girl he has known since she was an infant, he would not hesitate to use one of the Miss Bennets.”

Bennet pressed his fingertips to his forehead and rubbed it vigorously. He did not want this added complication to a life that was already keeping him away from his usual pleasures more than he liked. Although, upon reflection, he could not say he disliked spending time with his ladies at present. His efforts with them were yielding the results he had hoped for, which was satisfying and the encouragement he needed to persist.

“That is most disturbing, as you must realise, not being a fool. Lizzy would tell you to take that as a compliment. I often think ninety percent of the people about me are fools.” He shook himself. “Forgive me. I am aware I currently sound like a fool myself. I shall certainly ensure this Mr Wickham never enters Longbourn, and we must find a way to inform my wife and daughters and neighbours. Do you agree?”

Mr Darcy nodded. “Though I would prefer to keep my sister’s part in it quiet.”

Bennet was quick to agree. “I would not dream of telling anyone. Miss Darcy has surely suffered enough for her youthful indiscretion. Having five daughters, I have seen how easy it would be to flatter them into doing what they should not. That your sister’s companion encouraged the connexion— Well, I am heartily sorry you and she had to experience such a plot against you, and I thank you for confiding in me. It has given me a clear understanding of his character and what we must do. It has lately come to my attention just how close an eye a man must keep on his family.”

“I know that I am part of the reason,” Mr Darcy interjected. “I genuinely regret my own behaviour in October, and I assure you, I have learnt a valuable lesson from it and hope that I shall never forget it.”

If the gentleman made a similar pretty speech to Elizabeth, Bennet wondered, would his dearest girl see beneath Mr Darcy’s reticence to what he suspected was a rather honourable, caring, undoubtedly intelligent young man? Setting aside such reveries, he said, “Now, what shall we—or I, if you prefer—do about this?”

They spent the next minutes determining the steps they would take. Their plan involved speaking to Colonel Forster and several men who would pass on the message to others. Their aim was to ensure people knew to be cautious but not ostracise Mr Wickham. Bennet wanted him to have the opportunity to make a success of his new position, so long as he did it honestly and left the neighbourhood and all of its inhabitants no worse than they had been when he arrived. Had he not recently discovered that a man could change, given sufficient motivation? Perhaps Mr Wickham had experienced something of late that had encouraged him to want to amend his manner. His charity would not extend to admitting him into his or his family’s company, however.

Once that was decided, Mr Darcy cleared his throat and awkwardly said, “I would like to ask your permission to dance with Miss Elizabeth at the ball. I am not generally fond of the exercise, which I suppose I did not need to say, but I would like to dance with her. If-if nothing else, it would show everyone in attendance that I do not think she is unworthy of my attention.”

Bennet sat back in his chair and sipped his wine. And is there another reason you would like to spend more time with my girl? “As you are aware, I made Lizzy promise to avoid you. This was when the whole unfortunate business first occurred.” Mr Darcy nodded and blushed, which Bennet found diverting, though he managed not to smile or laugh .

“I am, sir, and I have come to appreciate that you told me how reprehensibly I acted. I have been attempting to be a gentleman that my family, including my late parents, would be proud of.”

Bennet experienced an odd feeling in the region of his heart. He was not exactly sure what it was, but it struck him that his opinion of Mr Darcy had improved a great deal—far more than he had realised. If he showed this aspect of himself to Elizabeth, she would find herself liking him—and perhaps more. “I am sure they would be. You may ask Lizzy to dance with you.” He took a large mouthful of wine and attempted to banish the notion of his daughter living so far away as Derbyshire; it was much too soon to worry about it. “Enough of that. Tell me, you are five- or six-and-twenty?”

Mr Darcy’s brow furrowed, showing the change of subject surprised him. “Seven-and-twenty.”

“Have you been fortunate enough to travel abroad? You would have been old enough during the last time it was not inadvisable or, dare I say, foolish to do so.”

Mr Darcy briefly chuckled, which Bennet thought was kind. His quip was not that amusing.

“My father and I did when the Treaty of Amiens was in place. We left in June 1802 and came home early the following year when my uncle sent word that we must return at once, that it might not be safe to remain out of the country much longer.”

“Your uncle the earl? He would have had early intelligence on the matter, I suppose.” Mr Darcy nodded. “ Useful to have such connexions—or know someone who does.” And now I know you! Bennet added to himself.

They spoke about travel for a while. He had visited all the usual countries and seen all the usual sights to complete his education as a young man, and it was agreeable to discuss it again with someone who would appreciate it. Elizabeth always liked to hear about his adventures, as she called them, and she often said she hoped to one day explore more of the world herself. Bennet would never play matchmaker—it was a solemn vow he had made to himself—but he could not help but speculate about his dearest girl and the young gentleman sitting across from him. I am afraid they might be exceedingly well matched, and, if anything comes of it, I believe I would be pleased for them both. A little more time to know Mr Darcy would give Bennet added confidence in him, and he determined to take it where he could.