Page 50 of Grief and Grievances
“Indeed, Miss Bingley,” Wickham replied, his eyes flickering towards the window as he observed several of his fellow officers strolling by. “I am certain that our alliance will bring us both great success.”
As they conversed, Wickham made certain to laugh too loudly at Caroline’s attempts at wit and lean in just a bit too close as she confided her own grievances against Elizabeth Bennet. He knew that such displays would be noted by his comrades and soon become fodder for the relentless gossip mill.
It was not long before their tête-à-tête became the talk of Meryton, whispered behind fans and over glasses of sherry. The well-oiled machinery of rumour and innuendo was set into motion, its gears grinding away at the reputations of all involved.
“Have you heard?” one officer asked another in hushed tones later that evening at their barracks. “Wickham has been seen consorting with Miss Bingley—and quite intimately, I might add.”
“Really?” his companion replied, his eyes wide with intrigue. “Why, I thought she had designs on Darcy!”
“Ah, but perhaps she is merely using Wickham to make him jealous,” the first officer mused, chuckling at the delicious scandal unfolding before them.
Within the confines of his small room, Wickham allowed himself a moment of smug satisfaction as he contemplated the intricate web he was weaving. Being seen in Caroline’s company, he knew, would not only further his own aims but also serve to deepen Darcy’s disquiet.
“Let the whole of Meryton bear witness to our connection,” Wickham thought, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Soon enough, Darcy will rue the day he crossed me.”
Yet even as he revelled in his cunning, a small voice within him whispered a warning. He was well aware that his actions could have dire consequences for all involved, but the allure of revenge and wealth was too strong for him to resist.
“Once I have secured Caroline’s fortune and brought about Elizabeth’s downfall,” he reasoned, silencing his doubts with an iron resolve, “I shall be untouchable.”
And thus, driven by resentment and greed, George Wickham set his plan into motion, his ambitions casting long shadows over the lives of those who would soon find themselves ensnared in his web of deception.
Chapter Twenty-Three
AsthecarriagebearingMr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Georgiana disappeared from view on the second day in a row, Elizabeth stood on the threshold of Longbourn, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
“Goodbye, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered to the empty air, her heart heavy with uncertainty.
She had once been so certain of her dislike for him, even repulsed by his arrogant manner and superior air. And yet, at Rosings, he had revealed himself to be a man of depth and sensitivity, who cared deeply for those around him. The tender concern he displayed towards his sister, Georgiana, and his care for Anne in her final days had touched Elizabeth’s heart in a way she never thought possible. Now, he was showing himself to be an entirely different man than she had once thought, not a trace of his former pride and arrogance on display as he interacted with her family.
“Elizabeth? Are you well, dear sister?” Jane’s gentle voice floated towards her as she joined Elizabeth outside, her blue eyes filled with concern.
“Indeed, I am, dear Jane,” Elizabeth replied, attempting a smile which faltered before it truly formed. “I find myself merely... preoccupied.”
“Preoccupied?” Jane echoed softly, her gaze searching Elizabeth’s face for any hint of what might trouble her usually buoyant sister. “Is it Mr. Darcy’s courting you that weighs upon your mind?”
Elizabeth started at the mention of the very subject that plagued her thoughts. “How did you-” she began, quickly checking that they were not overheard, but was silenced by Jane’s knowing smile.
“Your eyes betray you, Lizzy,” Jane said gently. “I can see the turmoil within. If you wish to speak of it, I am here to listen.”
For a moment, Elizabeth hesitated. She had always trusted Jane implicitly, but the matter of her heart was a territory she had not often explored, and she feared the vulnerability that came with such confessions. Yet she knew that if there were anyone who could understand her feelings and offer guidance, it would be her beloved sister. So, she took Jane’s hand and the pair of them walked out into the garden, where nobody might overhear their conversation.
“Jane,” she began haltingly, her voice scarcely more than a whisper, “I must confess that while we were at Rosings, Mr. Darcy… he proposed to me.”
“Proposed?” Jane echoed, her astonishment evident in the arch of her finely-drawn eyebrows. “Good heavens, Lizzy! I never would have expected such a thing.”
“Nor did I,” admitted Elizabeth, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering disbelief. “His words were impassioned, his eyes filled with tenderness...and yet, I find myself uncertain as to how I ought to proceed.”
“Uncertain?” Jane studied her sister’s troubled expression with a furrowed brow, her own heart aching at the sight of Elizabeth’s distress. “Is it because you still harbour doubts about his character, or is there some other cause for your hesitation?”
“I confess that I am not quite sure,” Elizabeth replied, her fingers twisting together anxiously in the folds of her gown. “I had thought my feelings towards him fixed and immutable, but now...I cannot help but wonder if, perhaps, I have fallen in love with him without even realising it.”
“Love?” Jane breathed, her eyes widening with surprise. She hesitated, then reached out to clasp Elizabeth’s hand in her own, squeezing gently in a gesture of understanding and support. “Oh, Lizzy, I can scarcely imagine the tumult of emotions you must be experiencing. But know that whatever path you choose, you will always have my love and support.”
“Thank you, Jane,” Elizabeth whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she leaned into her sister’s embrace, drawing strength and solace from the gentle warmth of their bond.
“Dearest Lizzy,” Jane began, her voice soft and soothing as she sought to provide comfort amidst the turmoil that enveloped her sister’s heart. “You must not be too hasty in your judgement, nor too harsh upon yourself. I have always known you to possess a keen sense of intuition, one that has often guided you through the most trying of circumstances. Allow it now to guide you once more, and trust that the answers you seek shall reveal themselves in due time.”
Elizabeth gazed pensively at a flowering shrub as they walked, at the gentle chaos that was Longbourn’s garden. Her thoughts drifted to Pemberley, Darcy’s grand estate, and all that it represented: the wealth, the status, the expectations that would undoubtedly accompany her acceptance of his proposal.
