The Road to Pemberley (53 page)

Darcy glared at Wickham for several moments and said nothing. Wickham began to squirm, realizing that he played with a weak hand. At length, Darcy dropped his controlled demeanor, walked back to the cabinet, grabbed the blackthorn walking stick, and slammed it hard on the table.

“Let us end this false dance, Mr. Wickham. We both know that we have no common father. This walking stick belonged to your father, not mine!”

Wickham looked at Darcy incredulously.

“Please spare me a display of manufactured surprise,” continued Darcy. “You have lied to me long enough.”

Darcy rang for a servant and within moments one appeared. “You can tell Mrs. Darcy that I am ready now, Thomas.” The servant acknowledged his master with a bow and departed.

“Mr. Wickham, as soon as I learned that this walking stick was given to Holly Doolittle by your father, your scheme was in ruins. I returned that same day to Mr. Bandersnatch and convinced him to disclose his knowledge of Mr. Wickham's file. Yes, I am certain you are surprised to learn that the cautious Mr. Bandersnatch took the time to copy all the important documents prior to handing them over to you. It seems that you have conveniently neglected to share with me the first letter that my father wrote to the late Mr. Wickham. I am certain that it could not have escaped your attention—my father clearly states that he is acting as a proxy for another gentleman, whose name he is not at liberty to disclose. But this walking
stick identifies your true father just as surely as if his name had been included in that letter.”

“I don't understand, Mr. Darcy. How does this walking stick come into play?”

Darcy explained the circumstances of Holly Doolittle's fall—how her gentleman friend had donated his walking stick for her assistance, and how that same man had disappeared upon learning that she was with child.

He then handed the walking stick to Wickham.

“Here, see this emblem carved just below the handle? Do you not recognize it from the livery that has often visited Pemberley? And if that is not sufficient, look at the initials carved on the underside of the goose handle.”

“LDB!” exclaimed Wickham, growing pale.

“Yes, LDB. Sir Lewis de Bourgh of Rosings Park,” explained Darcy. “Sir Lewis died several years before my father, leaving his widow, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and daughter, Anne de Bourgh.”

The revelation left Wickham incapable of speech.

“For Sir Lewis to use the name of my father as cover for his own activities was unforgivably duplicitous,” said Darcy. “I met your father many times as I was growing up. When I reached maturity, I could clearly discern that although he retained little affection for his wife, he had lost none of his fear. That was not entirely without reason, for she was quite formidable, but that by no means excuses his cowardly behavior toward your mother. I imagine that when your father found out about Miss Doolittle's condition, he was terrified that word about the affair might leak back to Lady Catherine, and he tried desperately to distance himself from the situation. Bandersnatch's letter must have thrown him into a panic, and he probably went running to my father for advice. My generous father most certainly offered to act as Sir Lewis's proxy.”

Wickham was the picture of confusion. Although he knew from the undisclosed first letter that Mr. Darcy was not his real father, he was unprepared to look upon Sir Lewis de Bourgh in such a capacity. He saw his dream for riches quickly fading, with no time to improvise a different plan.

A disturbance could be heard in the far end of the hall, and Darcy calmly offered a suggestion. “Mr. Wickham, I recommend that you sign this agreement now, take your fifty pounds, and accept my best wishes for a long and happy life. Of course, you are free to take up the matter with Lady Catherine instead, or perhaps with your half sister, Anne. Your desperation for riches may tempt you in that direction, but I advise against it. You are certain to find Lady Catherine even less tractable than I am, and Anne de Bourgh has recently married the Earl of Nottingham, who is renowned for his quick temper and excellent marksmanship. Still, if you think my advice wrong-headed, you have only to wait a moment longer. Lady Catherine has been our guest for this past week, and she comes now to greet you.”

Lady Catherine exploded through the door of the study. “Nephew,” she cried to Darcy, “Elizabeth has informed me of a most revolting circumstance. I am utterly ashamed of you! Whatever possessed you to allow this wretch to pollute Pemberley? This is not to be endured! My only solace is that your dear parents are not alive to witness this degradation!”

Elizabeth, who trailed Darcy's aunt only slightly, was unsuccessful in hiding her amusement at Wickham's fear and bewilderment. Lady Catherine turned her attention to Wickham and looked him over disdainfully.

“So here is the infamous scoundrel who has shamed the Bennet family, who has polluted the shades of Pemberley, and who now spends his time in drunken dissipation! Now, what is it that you
want of me, Mr. Wickham? Mrs. Darcy informs me that you seek my advice on some matter relating to pensions. That is a foolish thought indeed. Why anyone should wish to squander a pension on an ingrate such as yourself is beyond comprehension. It is most vexing.”

Wickham could only stammer out a reply: “There has b-been a mis-mistake. There is no need for your advice, your ladyship. All uncertainties are resolved.” He looked around the table and added, “Darcy, where is your pen?”

Darcy lifted his pen from its holder and handed it to him. Wickham quickly signed both copies of the agreement, bowed, and bolted with his copy and his fifty pounds. Lady Catherine could only gape in wonder at the laughter of her nephew and niece.

So distressing did Lady Catherine find her encounter with Wickham that she could not collect her composure sufficiently to permit the continuation of her stay. None of Darcy's entreaties could soften her resolve. Within two hours she was riding in her Barouche box back to the safe and uncontaminated confines of Rosings Park.

“How delicious an irony!” remarked Elizabeth. “Lady Catherine condemns Wickham for his pollution of Pemberley, all the while oblivious that her husband was the source!”

“Indeed,” answered Darcy, grinning. “I cannot imagine a more just and fitting resolution.”

“You are not disappointed, then, that you have lost a half brother?”

“Not at all,” he answered. “I happily pass along that distinction to our cousin Anne. So my half-brother has now been converted to a half-cousin; but as you know very well, my dear, some relations cannot be too far removed!”

“Yes,” said Lizzy smiling, “and whatever direction Wickham's shadow decides to take, it seems quite certain it will never augment the shades of Rosings Park!”

Darcy laughed as he took her arm and walked toward the dining room. After finishing the first truly relaxing dinner in over a fortnight, the family strolled leisurely along the path through the manicured gardens and tall grass, finally reaching the pond, where they took turns feeding the ducks and geese.

A View from the Valet

BY NACIE MACKEY

To be employed at an estate such as Pemberley, a well-trained servant was expected to become blind, deaf, and dumb. And, case in point, no matter the unusual behavior of his master, a valet must especially adhere to such inflexible standards.

Having retained the position of valet to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy since that gentleman's eighteenth birthday, Samuel Preston accepted these responsibilities without question. After all, had not his own father served as valet to the elder Mr. Darcy for nearly forty years?

Through pleasant times and hardships, Preston stood by without apparent judgment. Twice, Mr. Fitzwilliam had fallen violently in love. Twice, his valet remained stoically silent while every manner of oath and curse were uttered within the confines of the young gentleman's rooms at the conclusion of these same affairs.

Two years following the second of these, Mr. James Darcy passed on, his demise leading to a period of grief for the entire county. A lifetime of treating his family, staff, and tenants with respect and consideration caused his death to remain quite painful for many months.

However, from such a loss was born new hope for the future of Pemberley, it's sister estates, and all Darcy lands, for Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, at three and twenty, stepped into his formidable father's shoes with surprising ease. At least, this was what the majority of the household presumed.

Preston knew otherwise. The others on the staff did not see the weariness of his master's countenance as, through long hours, he pored over the numerous books and documents regarding the estate. They did not witness the dark circles beneath his eyes when he arose from a night of restless slumber. They did not suffer silently upon observing his extreme sense of loss for his father.

Eventually, though, these burdens were overcome. Mr. Fitzwilliam applied himself to his new role, accepted his somewhat heavy responsibilities, and even designated duties to others, so that he might obtain some much-needed rest.

For nearly three years thereafter, serenity reigned. Daily life became an easy routine. In the summer, they traveled to London; in
winter, they returned to Derbyshire. Mr. Darcy's sister, Miss Georgiana, sometimes accompanied them, and sometimes did not. As she enjoyed the services of a tutor, a music master, a dressmaker, a dance instructor, and a lady's companion, she usually remained at their townhouse in London.

During the summer of Miss Georgiana's fifteenth birthday, however, something happened concerning her that affected Mr. Darcy deeply. The details were rather sketchy (the other servants' gossip was largely ignored by Preston, and he would never even consider inquiring into the matter), but they seemed to involve a certain Mr. George Wickham, recognized by all as the son of the Darcys' former steward.

Somehow, Mr. Wickham had followed the inarguably blameless Miss Darcy to their other summer home of Ramsgate, and very nearly had her convinced to elope with him. How they were discovered in time was anyone's guess. Preston was convinced of there being little Mr. Darcy did not know, or would eventually find out, and, of course, deal with in as gentlemanly a manner as possible. After that, she was left alone far less often; until, that is, the journey to Hertfordshire.

Mr. Darcy's closest confidant, Mr. Charles Bingley, was eager to set up a household of his own, as his father's estate had recently been settled. Finding himself a wealthy man at the age of four and twenty, Mr. Bingley had heard of a suitable property to be let in that southern county. Having been apprised of its scenic beauty and friendly citizens, he was desirous to inspect the place and requested the company of his friend while doing so.

Mr. Darcy was not quite so enthusiastic, but if Bingley wished his opinion, then he would grant it. Hertfordshire—the way that Preston was given to understand it, at least—was so quaint as to be boorish. The society there would have little idea of true manners
or fashion. In short, they were nothing but barbarians and should be regarded as such. All of these opinions were freely expressed by Mr. Darcy during those times when Preston was at his service. Even on the very day of their arriving at Netherfield, as the estate was known, Mr. Darcy did not alter his opinion.

They remained there for several weeks. During that time, a subtle change seemed to come over his master. He no longer complained of the inferior society, and although not really improving in mood, he seemed to be in a permanent state of anticipation. Having witnessed him twice while in love, Preston suspected that this was again the case.

The difference, it appeared, was that the lady in question was actually a member of this “boorish” society, and, most amazing of all, she did not appear to return his regard.

Preston happened to learn all of this and more through Mr. Darcy's nightly muttered grievances. He learned that the lady's name was Miss Elizabeth Bennet, that she was from a large and uncouth family, and that she treated Mr. Darcy as though
he
were the barbarian. Even so, great pains were taken in his dress and grooming during that period, and the situation seemed to come to a head on the evening of Mr. Bingley's ball.