The Darcys of Pemberley (25 page)

With this history in view, concern over the
existing situation soon cast a pall on daily life at Pemberley.
Darcy’s good humor steadily diminished in proportion to the time he
spent grappling for a solution to the dilemma and finding none. He
fell into dark moods, brooding and riding out at odd hours to clear
his head.

Darcy never named his trouble, yet Elizabeth
knew it was called Wickham. And although no immediate threat seemed
to warrant her husband’s torturous turn of mind, past experience
taught that uneasiness over Wickham usually proved justified. That
such a man should have the power to torment one so honorable caused
Elizabeth great consternation, and she once again sincerely
regretted the course of events that had brought the miscreant into
their family in the first place.

A conspicuous reminder of how that unhappy
development had come to pass presented itself at Pemberley late one
morning in the form of Lydia Wickham. Though not entirely delighted
to see her waiting in the front hall, Elizabeth was at least
prepared for her sister’s visit, having anticipated its likelihood
for days.

“Well then, Lizzy, are you not at least a
little bit pleased to see me?” Lydia asked gaily.

“Of course. I am always glad to see one of my
sisters, and Kitty will be thrilled you are come. She has been
longing for you ever since we returned from the south.”

“I daresay if she were so eager to see me,
she could easily have come to Heatheridge before this. But no
matter.”

Unlike her husband, Lydia had no penchant for
dwelling upon perceived slights. Whereas Mr. Wickham was known for
causing harm by deliberate plan, Mrs. Wickham was far more prone to
injure by
lack
of thought and careless disregard for
consequences. Indeed, so infrequently did her mind turn to any kind
of serious reflection that she was generally insensible of the
wrongdoings and bad manners of all persons, including herself.

Elizabeth led Lydia to the drawing room and
bade her sit.

“Good lord, Lizzy, how you have grown! I can
scarce believe that you will soon be a mother. First Jane, now you,
and here am I, the one earliest married with no children at all.
What a good joke! I do not envy you in the least. Can you imagine
me having to care for an ill-tempered infant? I am sure you would
say that I can hardly care for myself, and you would be right. So
it is exceedingly lucky that Wickham and I are childless. Would not
you agree?”

“If that is how you feel about children,
Lydia, then yes, I am glad for your good fortune in having none.
One does not always get one’s wish in the matter.”

“Oh, it is all very well for you and Jane,
with fine houses and servants to do everything. You need not lift a
finger yourself if you had rather not. But how should
we
manage? We could not afford a nursemaid, and I am sure I could
never put up with doing the job myself. How tiresome I should find
it to be always wiping noses and carting a toddler about on my hip
as I have seen other women do. And the noise! I declare, the sound
of the twins crying, both at the same time, is quite enough to
drive me to distraction. I cannot comprehend how Jane and Bingley
bear it. Yet they seem not to mind it at all.”

“They both have the right temperament for
parenthood, I daresay. I hope I shall be half so patient when my
time comes. But, Lydia, if you find the company of the infants at
Heatheridge so unpleasant, I should think you and your husband
would be happy to be gone as soon as possible,” Elizabeth added
helpfully … and hopefully.

“By no means! I do not know when I have ever
been so comfortable. Compared to our makeshift arrangements in
Newcastle, Heatheridge is a vast deal more pleasant. The
inconvenience of a little wailing from time to time is not worth
mentioning when I think of it.”

Elizabeth tried again. “Yet surely you and
Wickham would rather be on your own. A married couple living in
someone else’s home …” She shook her head. “The loss of privacy
must pain you deeply.”

“Certainly we should be glad to have a place
of our own again as soon as ever we can afford something nice. Even
a cottage with two or three servants would do, I should think. Yet
I hardly know when that might be. In the meantime, you must not
worry about us, Lizzy. Heatheridge is a big house, and the Bingleys
are not very much in our way.”

Elizabeth could only stare, incredulous at
her sister’s lack of penetration and her selfish perspective. Kitty
then entered the room, diverting Lydia’s attention and sparing
Elizabeth the need to contrive a civil response to the thoughtless
remark.

Not until dinner did Mr. Darcy make an
appearance, meeting his least favorite sister-in-law with tolerable
composure and civility. Had she exercised enough discretion to
leave her husband’s name out of her conversation, all might have
been well. But discretion was a discipline over which Lydia had no
command. Hardly had they sat down at table before she began to
rattle on about “Wickham this” and “Wickham that,” making
everybody, save herself, extremely uncomfortable. As soon as he was
able, Mr. Darcy retreated to his study again, and an hour later
Elizabeth sent both her sisters off in the Bingleys’ carriage,
Kitty having decided to take the opportunity to move on to
Heatheridge.

Lydia’s visit only served to increase anxiety
over an already-pressing problem. Elizabeth longed to discuss it
with her husband – to share his troubles, to sympathize, to again
apologize for the bad behavior of one of her relations – yet she
was loath to risk distressing him further by raising the
distasteful topic. Surprisingly, he opened the subject himself that
evening.

“Your sister was in fine spirits today,
Elizabeth,” he said dryly, sitting down beside her on the paisley
sofa at the foot of their bed.

Laying aside her book, she raised rueful eyes
to him. “Yes. I am sorry, Darcy. She seems quite pleased with her
current situation, and not bothered in the least by the
circumstances the rest of us find so vexing. From her manner of
speaking, I believe she would be content to stay the rest of her
life at Heatheridge.”

He stared silently into the empty grate of
the fireplace, the muscles of his jaw working.

Elizabeth hastened to add, “I did hint more
than once that it would be best if they quit the place, but Lydia
could not – or would not – understand me.”

“No, subtlety and diplomacy are lost on her.
Something more direct is in order.” Darcy expelled a great sigh,
abruptly rose, and crossed to the window.

Elizabeth awaited his next move.

When he turned back and continued, it was
with a decisive tone. “Clearly, the Wickhams will not quit the
comforts of Heatheridge voluntarily, and conscience forbids us to
evict them with nowhere else to go. Although it galls me no end to
give
that man
any more assistance, the only workable
solution I can conceive of is to furnish Wickham another place to
live and some work to do. Perhaps that will keep him out of
trouble, and they both will begin to behave more responsibly. It is
a hope rather than an expectation; past evidence gives little cause
for optimism.”

“So, what exactly do you propose?”

“One of the larger tenant cottages on the
outskirts of the estate has been vacant for some time. It is a fine
house – nothing grand of course, but very comfortable. I am
thinking of giving it over to them and charging Wickham with the
management of the farm attached. The land is good and he is clever
enough. I am certain he could make a success of it if he
chooses.”

Seeing by his pained aspect what this
concession cost him, Elizabeth cried, “That is exceedingly
generous! They neither one of them deserves such kindness.”

“You give me too much credit for
disinterested charity, my love. I am sorry to disillusion you, but
I confess that my first inclination is to send them both far, far
away – some place where they could neither disturb us nor threaten
the well-being of our friends again. However, that is not in my
power. For now, the best alternative may be for them to remain
close enough for us to monitor their activities and exercise some
control.”

“But can you bear to have them so near
by?”

“I suppose I shall have to. While it is
always more agreeable to have one’s friends close at hand, I
believe it is sometimes wise to keep one’s enemies even
closer.”

Interlude

On the following day, two letters arrived
with the post.

“Thank you, Henderson,” said Elizabeth,
taking them from the butler’s tray. She located Mr. Darcy in the
library, and they perused the missives together.

The first, from the Hursts, heralded their
intended arrival with Miss Bingley in two days’ time. The other
came from Georgiana. Elizabeth longed to know how she and
Fitzwilliam were getting on, and whether or not any romantic
attraction had developed on his side. But, since the letter was
addressed to both her and her husband, Elizabeth knew better than
to expect any straightforward information on that question.
Although Fitzwilliam’s name was mentioned more than once in
Georgiana’s general account of her doings in London, Elizabeth
could ferret out no subtle clues to satisfy her curiosity.

“Your sister keeps very busy in town,” she
remarked after they finished reading. “She makes good use of her
extended stay from the sound of it. Even if she comes away with no
other benefit, I believe she will return to Pemberley a more
confident young lady than when she left it.”

“Quite so. It also pleases me to hear that
Fitzwilliam has been so much in her company. I think it must do him
good to be drawn out into society again, and it is to Georgiana’s
advantage to be under his protection.”

“Yes, let us hope the arrangement works to
benefit them both. And even though your sister says nothing of new
suitors, we still cannot rule out the possibility of some progress
on the romantic front before she leaves London,” Elizabeth said,
thinking of Fitzwilliam.

“All I really require is her safe return, and
she makes no mention of when that might be expected.”

“I do hope she will not stay away much
longer. I miss her, and I would like her to be here when the baby
comes.”

“That would be a great comfort to us both.”
After some hesitation he continued, “Do you expect your mother to
attend you during your confinement?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I cannot say. She wrote
that her intention was to come well in advance of the expected time
and to stay a good long while. In response, I thanked her for her
kind offer but suggested she come later with my father, after the
event instead, in order to spare her nerves. I can only hope she
takes my recommendation to heart. Or perhaps Papa will persuade her
to stay away. As a last resort, I may impose upon Jane to distract
her, for I really do not think I could bear my mother’s histrionics
at such a time.”

“Indeed. The last thing you need now is to be
wearied by the presence of a house full of extra people, when you
should be guarding your health and preserving your strength.
Therefore, I believe I must proceed with my plan to shift the
Wickhams without delay. The sooner they leave Heatheridge, the
shorter will be the stay of our own house guests. I intend to ride
over to the cottage myself shortly, with Mr. Adams, to see what is
needed to make the place ready for new occupants. I have also
written to Bingley for his opinion of the idea and how it might be
accomplished.”

Before long, the servant announced that the
master’s horse was ready and that Mr. Adams waited outside.
Elizabeth wished her husband a safe and successful mission, and
then went to the window to watch him ride away.

Mr. Darcy found the cottage in good
condition, needing only a few minor repairs and a thorough
cleaning. He directed Mr. Adams to see to the improvements at once,
and together they thrashed out a workable plan for the prospective
tenants. Although the house stood vacant, the land had been kept in
cultivation under Mr. Adams’ supervision. The new manager would
only need to carry on with the system already in place. Wickham
would find assistance close to hand, should he need it, but no
officious interference.

The idea was to make the situation as
attractive and predisposed to success as possible. The income
derived from the farm, when added to his half-pay as a retired army
officer, could keep Mr. Wickham and his wife very comfortably if
only he would avail himself of the opportunity. Despite Darcy’s
misgivings, he really hoped that, for the sake of all concerned,
Wickham would take advantage of this one last chance to
prosper.

~*~

Whilst her husband was gone, Elizabeth
retreated to their bedchamber for her afternoon nap, a practice she
had recently adopted. When Darcy returned, he discovered her still
asleep. Soft light from the window filtered through the sheer
draperies, playing across her face and disheveled hair. Finding the
sight irresistible, he silently shed his boots and outer garments
and carefully slipped in beside his wife, intending to cradle her
in his arms and possibly drift off to sleep himself.

Stealthy as he was, however, the disruption
was enough to wake Elizabeth. She rolled over to face him,
stretching contentedly. “Back so soon?” she asked with her eyes
only half open.

“Hush, darling. Go back to sleep. I did not
mean to disturb you,” he whispered.

“What time is it?”

“About half past three, I should think.”

“Good heavens,” she said with no real alarm.
“I have been asleep for hours. I suppose I should be getting
up.”

“Nonsense. Rest as long as you like. Your
only job now should be to take care of yourself and our child,” he
said, affectionately stroking her well-rounded belly through her
chemise. “That is all that is important.”