Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (17 page)

There also was a world of difference between Mr Bradden and Mr Collins. No two men of the cloth could have been more dissimilar in temperament, in manner and, last but not least, in looks.

A life with Mr Bradden might have been rewarding and contented – but, as matters stood, it was out of the question. There was no way under heaven that she could have borne to live her life under Pemberley’s patronage, and in Mr Darcy’s close proximity. Be settled at the parsonage when he married – in Kympton Church, most likely. See him bring his wife there for Sunday services. Bring his children to be christened – by her husband.

Elizabeth fought hard to suppress a shudder. It would not do for poor Mr Bradden to think it a reflection on himself. It was bad enough that she would have to pain him with her refusal.

He was still sitting on the sofa at her side, silent and anxious and, she feared, very much in love, if the look in his eyes was any indication. Her heart twisted with compassion and something very much like anger. What had they done, either of them, to deserve this uncharitable lot? Love and not be loved. How well she knew that anguish, how deeply she felt it! It was another heavy burden added to her oppressive load to know herself responsible for inflicting that sort of wretched pain upon another. But to do otherwise was impossible. Unthinkable.

Thus, with the greatest care and the kindest words that she could find, she gave him her refusal. His visible distress filled her with guilt and misery, and even more so when his handsome countenance softened into a wistful smile as he sought to alleviate
her
sadness.

“I beg you would not look so troubled. I am to blame in this. You gave me no reason to expect a different answer and, in truth, I did not dare expect it. There was nothing but blind hope… No matter,” he added with a ghost of a valiant smile, breaking her heart anew. “Let nothing more be said. I hope you would have the kindness to forget it ever happened. No,” he retracted, “that was a foolish thing to say. Rather, I hope it would not put a strain upon you.”

“You are too good,” she whispered with the deepest compassion. “You deserve the best. Much more than I could ever offer.”

A corner of his lips rose in the same wistful smile.

“Not so,” he said, then stood and bowed. “Farewell, Miss Bennet. I wish you every happiness.”

And then he left her, eyes fixed on his retreating back and her heart burdened by the thought that neither of them were to be blessed with the happiness they craved, and that Fate had a very cruel way of making sport, for some strange and wicked reasons of its own.

* * * *

Not surprisingly, after that painful interview Mr Bradden ceased calling at Pemberley and so did his sister, which only served to increase Elizabeth’s guilt further, for she was very fond of the kindly Miss Bradden and deeply wretched for the gentleman himself.

For quite some time they had no visitors, and when some did come, one of them was the sister of a far less deserving gentleman. Thankfully, Miss Fenton came to call without her brother, which was just as well, otherwise he would have had the severe mortification of being denied entrance. Mr Darcy had left very precise instructions in that regard, prior to his departure.

Unfortunately, those who are eminently honourable themselves fail to grasp sometimes just how limitless is the impudence or the ill-will of others, so he had not foreseen the need to leave similar instructions as regards another gentleman. Thus, Miss Fenton’s companion was allowed to follow her into the morning room without any hindrance, and he bowed to the young ladies who stood to greet them, while Miss Fenton cheerfully addressed her host:

“Dearest Miss Darcy, I trust the surprise I bring is agreeable and you would be pleased to renew an old acquaintance.”

Georgiana’s sweet countenance brightened into a smile.

“A most agreeable surprise indeed. Welcome to Pemberley, Sir. Lizzy, pray allow me to introduce Mr Wickham, a dear friend and my brother’s boyhood companion.”

CHAPTER 14

On that first visit Mr Wickham had deeply lamented his childhood friend’s absence.

“I most heartily wish I arrived into Derbyshire sooner, or that your brother was not called away,” he had earnestly told Georgiana. “It is a very long time since I had the pleasure of seeing him. Far too long, and we have much to speak of. Is he to return soon, do you know?”

“I fear not,” Georgiana had disclosed with no little sadness. “He is established in Berkeley Square now, with no immediate plans to return to the north.”

“Ah! A great pity. I would have dearly liked to see him. And you must miss him dreadfully. I remember with great fondness how close the pair of you were when you were a child. Why, you would have followed him everywhere, had your governess allowed it, and he was equally keen to indulge you and provide all manner of amusements.”

“Yes,” Georgiana smiled. “The kindest and most attentive elder brother. I could not have wished for a better.”

“Too true. How fortunate for you both to have each other, especially after your most excellent father had been so cruelly taken from you – from us all. Such a terrible loss! I still feel it keenly, after all those years.”

“Father was very fond of Mr Wickham, Lizzy,” Georgiana explained, and Mr Wickham fervently concurred, with great emotion.

“The best father and godfather, Miss Bennet. I was honoured to be his godson, you see, and he lavished his affection and parental care upon me, as though I were his own flesh and blood. I could never repay his unstinting kindness, but I shall never forget it. Everything I am is thanks to my godfather, and I will bless his memory for as long as I live.”

“Fie, Mr Wickham, what solemn thoughts for such a sunny day,” Miss Fenton interjected, presumably tired of having no share in the conversation. “Could I entice you to walk out, Miss Darcy? That patch of snowdrops yonder, I declare I have never seen such a vast expanse, and so very pretty. Come, Miss Bennet, pray support me and encourage Miss Darcy to show us the gardens. I love to see the first signs of spring and Mr Wickham would welcome the opportunity to refresh old memories of times spent in boyish pursuits through the grounds.”

Elizabeth saw no reason to object to the sensible suggestion. It was a lovely day indeed and an amble through the gardens might be fairly pleasant, even in Miss Fenton’s loquacious company.

As it happened, she had the doubtful pleasure all to herself. Miss Fenton strolled beside her chatting constantly, while a few steps ahead Mr Wickham was walking arm in arm with Georgiana, conversing amiably about childhood romps and pointing out various spots he could connect with some fond memory or another.

The pattern came to repeat itself over the coming weeks, for Mr Wickham often came to call. Sometimes he stopped at Fenton Park on the way, to ride alongside Miss Fenton and her groom and escort her to Pemberley, but other times he called alone. On those occasions he walked through the gardens flanked by Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet, to regale them with tales from his own boyhood and his best friend’s – and fill Elizabeth’s heart with wistful joy at those treasured glimpses of Mr Darcy as a child.

At times like these she was rather glad of Miss Fenton’s absence. Not because she was rather empty-headed and talked far too much, and mostly without sense or substance. Not because she was the sister of a repulsive man either. It was not her fault, but rather her misfortune to have Lord Fenton for a brother.

No, Elizabeth simply cherished the opportunity of freely listening to Mr Wickham’s boyhood tales as she strolled in silence alongside him and Georgiana, rather than walking behind them with Miss Fenton and struggling to catch a few precious words from those charming stories with the deluge of Miss Fenton’s chatter pouring in her ears.

Secretly, Elizabeth had begun to relish Mr Wickham’s frequent visits, for the bitter-sweetness of hearing him speak of the man she loved.

Naturally, he spoke more of himself and his own boyhood pursuits. But Mr Darcy featured in them often and was mentioned with obvious affection, which could not fail to recommend both gentlemen, in different ways, to Elizabeth’s deepest sentiments.

It spoke well of Mr Wickham that he seemed to greatly appreciate Mr Darcy’s sterling qualities and their former close connection. Undoubtedly he included references to his childhood friend not only because the pair of them had been inseparable, but also to please Georgiana and in deference to her attachment to her brother. That he could not possibly have known how much his stories pleased Elizabeth as well was nothing short of a blessing to her way of thinking, as she treasured every opportunity to hear more.

Much as Miss Fenton’s absence was greatly beneficial in that regard, Elizabeth was grateful to her for having casually supplied at least one welcome intelligence. Apparently there was no further reason to fret over the lady’s brother, for Lord Fenton had already left Derbyshire a fair while ago. Had gone to town soon after Christmas, even before Mr Darcy’s own departure.

The intelligence would have been profoundly disturbing rather than reassuring, had Miss Fenton known and accidentally revealed the rest. That Lord Fenton had chanced to see Mr Darcy in town and was well aware of his absence from Pemberley. That he had communicated this titbit to his close acquaintance and boon companion on one of their very satisfying evenings of riotous dissipation, thus prompting the latter to travel north post-haste. And last but by no means least, that Lord Fenton’s boon companion was none other than the smooth and ever so charming Mr Wickham.

* * * *

Elizabeth knew nothing of this, but other unsettling information was made known to her on the morning when Mrs Reynolds came to see her above stairs in her sitting room, before breakfast.

“I was wondering if I might have a word, Miss Bennet,” the elderly lady began with some reluctance.

“Of course. Pray do come in and sit,” Elizabeth offered warmly.

She had developed a great deal of respect and affection for the kindly and very efficient housekeeper from the earliest days of her stay at Pemberley. Mrs Reynolds’ devotion to Darcy and his sister was plain to see and the understanding gentleness Elizabeth had found in her during her time of trouble could not fail to raise the elderly lady still further in her affection and esteem.

“No, I–… Very well,” Mrs Reynolds reconsidered and took the seat she was offered. She clasped her gnarled hands in her lap and leaned forward to hesitantly say, “I hope you would not take it amiss. I beg you would not. I have not come to cast aspersions but share my concern, and also some details you might not know…”

“Pray rest easy,” Elizabeth smiled and reached to press her hands. “I know all too well that you have nothing but the best intentions. So tell me, what did you wish to speak of?”

“Whom, rather,” Mrs Reynolds frowned. “‘Tis that Mr Wickham. To my way of thinking he comes here a great deal too often and I suspect the master would not much like it.”

“Oh! Goodness. I had no notion. But… what makes you think so? He speaks very well of Mr Darcy and with great fondness of his late godfather– ”

“Words and deeds do not always go together,” Mrs Reynolds interjected grimly. “Aye, the old master had him brought up at his own expense, lavished him with affection, but some say he might have saved himself the trouble, for the young man has not turned out as he should. Has turned out very wild indeed. Few, if any, would give him a good name in these parts, and rumour has it that he has grown even wilder since he took himself to town. I know naught of that, but I do know that he left in great haste some years back, not long after old Mr Darcy’s passing. Left debts as well to all and sundry, and it was my master who discharged them.”

“Goodness,” Elizabeth repeated, shaken by the intelligence.

How terrible to think she might have failed in her duties and unknowingly encouraged a visitor Mr Darcy disapproved of – allowed him to further an acquaintance with his sister. What would he think of her? Likely even less than he already did, and rightly so…

She sighed and looked up at Mrs Reynolds.

“Thank you for sharing this,” she fervently told her. “I will speak to Miss Darcy directly. Neither of us ever guessed… He seemed the very essence of propriety and affectionate gratitude for this house.”

“Let us hope he has seen the error of his ways,” Mrs Reynolds replied without much conviction. “If that be the case, I hope you would not mind my saying it is for Mr Darcy to decide if he wishes to have his company at Pemberley or allow him to call upon Miss Georgiana.”

“Of course, of course! Mr Wickham must not call while Mr Darcy is away. I will tell him so myself, next he comes. Pray excuse me now, I must find Miss Darcy. You have my thanks for your timely disclosures.”

“Think nothing of it. I just thought you ought to know,” the elderly lady smiled reassuringly, and left Elizabeth to go about the urgent task of revealing the disturbing intelligence to Georgiana.

She found her in her sitting room, a few doors down the corridor, and hastened to cover the unpleasant topic. But Georgiana merely smiled.

“Oh, Lizzy, pray do not look so troubled. I should speak to Mrs Reynolds myself to reassure her too. This is nothing but Mr Wickham’s foes spreading tales about him. He told me all about it.”

“He did? When? I remember nothing of the sort.”

“You could not have. You were not with us.”

“You saw him alone?” Elizabeth asked with mounting concern.

“Yes, the day before yesterday. He called while you were practising your music and I did not wish to disturb you, so we went for a walk instead. I thought you would not mind.”

Elizabeth found she minded very much indeed. Not merely because, in view of Mrs Reynolds’ communications, Mr Wickham was a man she could no longer trust in Georgiana’s company, and even less without a chaperone, but mostly at this further proof that she had failed in her duties to Mr Darcy’s sister and his house. She was expected to watch over Georgiana, to assist and guide her, not leave her to her own devices in indifferent and now suspicious company, while she indulged forbidden thoughts in the music room as she played that dreadfully revealing aria again. Heavens above, how could she have been so inexcusably self-absorbed?

Cautiously, she inquired:

“What did Mr Wickham have to say?”

Georgiana frowned, seeking to remember.

“He explained that many people in Lambton, in Kympton village and in this house as well, have always looked with a jaundiced eye upon his closeness to us. He is the son of our former steward, you see, and others thought he had been given too much consequence within the family, for one of his station in life. Envy is a dark master, so evil tongues have spread rumours about him, to drive a wedge between him and us – between him and my brother. Mr Wickham told me the main reason he had come to Pemberley was to heal the breach. This is why he was so distraught that my brother was away. But hopefully all will be well when Fitzwilliam hears him out. He is too kind and much too fair not to listen to every detail and make the proper judgement.”

“Indeed he is,” Elizabeth agreed with energy. “So it should be left to your brother to decide. But until he does, I believe you should distance yourself from the connection.”

“You do?”

“Most assuredly.”

“Oh, Lizzy! Why?”

“Because I do not know Mr Wickham.”

“But I do. He is… well, almost family. We were brought up together, and I know how deeply he cares for us all.”

“Mrs Reynolds thinks– ”

“Mrs Reynolds is such a kind old dear. She is so deeply loyal that she would defend us against every peril, real or imagined. She must have bent her ear to tales meant to discredit or misrepresent poor Mr Wickham.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips. If pressed to choose whom she would give more credence to, it would be Mrs Reynolds. She had been given far more extensive proof of that lady’s worth, and the same could not be said of the gentleman. And if Mrs Reynolds thought her master would not be pleased by the association, then she must know best. Elizabeth spoke up quietly but firmly:

“That is as may be. Still, I cannot be comfortable going behind Mr Darcy’s back– ”

“No, of course not! Nor I, that was not my meaning. In fact, I was determined to write and tell him everything – mediate between them.”

“And did you?”

“No. George does not wish it.”

“George?”

“Mr Wickham. You know he is my father’s godson – he was named after him.”

Elizabeth frowned at the intimacy of the appellation.

“And why does
Mr Wickham
not wish it?”

“He is adamant that so sensitive and complex a matter cannot be addressed in writing. Moreover, he feels very strongly that he must resolve this issue himself and meet my brother face to face, rather than take advantage of my kindness. I think that is very honourable of him. Do you not?”

“I might have, were it not for Mrs Reynolds’ disclosures. As it is, I find it odd that Mr Wickham should insist on you saying nothing to your brother. Which is precisely why I think you should. And definitely not receive Mr Wickham until Mr Darcy’s return.”