Page 75 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
“No, it doesn’t,” said Mr. Darcy. “You have shared this with me, and I shall tell you that I am acquainted with this man, and that I well know what he’s capable of.” He began to speak, laying out the particulars of everything that had to do with Mr. Wickham, speaking with candor about what the man had done with Georgiana. When he had finished, Mr. Bennet looked ill.
Mr. Bennet shook his head again and again, speechless.
“This is my fault,” said Mr. Darcy. “I could have exposed him, could have materially lessened his access to the women in this family if his reputation were well known. I sought to preserve my sister’s honor, however, and because of that, this has happened.”
“No, you must not blame yourself,” said Mr. Bennet faintly.
“When do you think they set off?”
“Well, she was here this morning for breakfast,” said Mr. Bennet.
“So, they can’t have gotten very far, then,” said Mr. Darcy. “If we go now, we can overtake them.”
“And then what?” said Mr. Bennet.
Mr. Darcy wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that, he had to admit. “Whatever the case, time is of the essence. If we make haste, we can prevent his hurting your daughter.”
Mr. Bennet’s features tightened. “You don’t have to be part and parcel of this.”
“I think I do,” said Mr. Darcy.
JANE HAD MIXEDfeelings about the fact that there were no women present in the Bingley household. Miss Bingley was on an extended stay with her sister and husband in the country, apparently because of the man who was courting her, Mr. Higgins. They had followed him to some country house in Shropshire.
On the one hand, she did not think she could bear MissBingley’s censure, nor her sharp tongue, and she was pleased to be spared that. On the other hand, this meant that it was frightfully improper for her to remain under this roof.
She would have left, truly, setting out on foot for Gracechurch Street, as had been her original plan, but she thought perhaps that going out, all alone, on foot, through London, was foolish. She would have begged Mr. Bingley for use of his carriage, but he had gone off like a shot after Mr. Wickham, so she was prevented from asking him for it.
She consented, then, to a hot bath, which felt like heaven itself on her tired and aching muscles. She dozed a bit in the bath, and then she woke to find the water cold and got out immediately.
She was in the midst of deciding whether she should dress—one of Miss Bingley’s frocks had been fetched for her—or retire to bed when she got word that Mr. Bingley was back and that he had another man with her.
Heart in her throat, she worried that somehow Mr. Wickham had weaseled his way into Mr. Bingley’s good graces, and she dressed in a hurry, resolving that if she must walk, she would walk.
However, when she alighted on the first level, the man in the drawing room with Mr. Bingley was not Wickham at all, but Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Upon laying eyes on her, he hurried across the room, his countenance all solicitude and concern. “Miss Bennet, how good it is to you see you whole and safe.”
“You have come here all the way from Kent?” she said.
“You must not be angry with your sister,” said the colonel. “She and I spoke sometime this morning. Seems twenty years ago at this point. I promised her I would tell no one what she told me, and you have my word that I have not. However, once I knew what had transpired, I knew that I could not leave you to the mercy of Mr. Wickham, and I had to intervene.”
Mr. Bingley stepped close to the both of them. “We arrived at the boardinghouse at roughly the same time,” he said, “and he insisted on accompanying me here to see you. Icould not refuse him politely.” But clearly, from his manner, Mr. Bingley wished to have refused him. That was curious. Why didn’t Mr. Bingley like the colonel? Perhaps they had some quarrel she wasn’t privy too. She would do her best, she decided, to keep the peace between them.
She tried a smile. “I am, of course, rather mortified to have been in such need of rescue, Colonel Fitzwilliam. But I appreciate your attention and concern, all the same.” She turned to Mr. Bingley. “And you, sir, have been very good to me, better than you likely should have been, I think.”
“Exactly the right amount,” said Mr. Bingley, affronted.
“I’m glad Mr. Bingley has been good to you,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I think, however, given the situation, we must get you to your relatives in town sooner rather than later. Though I can vouch for my own honor in this situation, there is nothing about your being alone in a house with two bachelors that appears proper.”
“Oh, indeed, yes,” said Jane. “If I could have use of a carriage, I shall readily take my leave. But I must inquire after Mr. Wickham?” Was he dead? What had happened?
Both of the men sighed heavily. They both turned away, and the colonel ran a hand through his hair and Mr. Bingley looked down at his shoes, ruefully shaking his head.
She steeled herself. “Did you come upon Mr. Bingley killing him, because—”
“Killing him?” The colonel looked appraisingly at the other man. “Well, Bingley, you surprise me.”
Mr. Bingley bared his teeth at the colonel, puffing up his chest. “You may sneer at me all you like, Fitzwilliam, but I shan’t apologize for the fact that I wished to do damage to that man. He deserves it.”
