“He said that he had procured…” He turned to glance at the distraught young lady. “…a sensual widow for my…enjoyment.” He lowered his head, not daring to look at his father or the lovely lady.
“I am no widow!” Elizabeth gasped. “I am still a maiden.” Tears rolled down her pale cheeks again. “At least, I was, until…”
“I am sorry, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said wretchedly. “Sir, I am sorry. I should have stopped as soon as I realized that she was …untouched. But I did not.” He drew in a deep breath, expecting the harshest censure from his father…but his father appeared to be deep in thought. So he walked, instead, to kneel before Elizabeth, his eyes begging for forgiveness. “Miss Bennet, I am deeply sorry for my drunken behaviour. I have compromised you. We must marry.”
“But I do not even know you!” she replied in alarm. “What if you are…witless?”
He shook his head. “I completed Cambridge with honours.”
“Unkind?”
“I have never raised my hand or voice against a defenceless servant. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, can confirm that. She has known me since I was four.”
“A gambler?”
“My fortune is still quite intact, at six thousand so far. You may rest assured that I am not a gambler.”
She gasped at his wealth, but pressed on, for it was of no true consequence in the present burning matter. Instead, she continued. “A drunkard?”
“I shall have to prove myself to you on that score. I do not usually get drunk. But this one special Scottish whisky does appear to have a most peculiar effect upon me. I vow hereafter to stay away from it entirely.”
“But…I want to marry for love.” She wanted desperately to look away from the handsome man in front of her, but her eyes betrayed her, for they would not leave his face.
Mr. Darcy sucked in a deep breath and was about to respond when his father waved him to silence and addressed Elizabeth himself.
“That, my dear young woman, is a rather novel notion. To marry for love. As my son said, he is very rich and you do not have a dowry. Will that not change your mind about the marriage?”
She sighed deeply. “If I cannot respect the man by my side, all the money in the world will not make me happy.”
Old Mr. Darcy nodded with approval, and waved his permission for Fitzwilliam to continue to argue his case.
“Well then, Miss Bennet, you have only to tell me how to win your respect and I shall try my hardest to do so. Indeed, I have already begun to respect you quite sincerely. You did not hesitate to tell us of your ‘less fortunate’ family situation, and you pronounce yourself unwilling to marry me, even though I am quite wealthy. I find that admirable indeed.”
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “You have no objection to my relations? I must confess, my mother and younger sisters are rather silly.”
“My aunt, Lady Catherine, is not the most reasonable of relations, either.”
“Fitzwilliam!” Old Mr. Darcy chastised his son.
“You seem determined to challenge me, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, then turned crimson, for her accidental use of his Christian name caused her to recall crying out the word in the very throes of passion. She had to admit that this fine young man had a hidden sense of humour, a strong code of honour and the most handsome of physical forms. Perhaps…perhaps she
Mr. Darcy rubbed the insides of her palms. He loved the way she spoke his name, and the twinkle in her eyes. He shivered with pleasure as he remembered hearing her endearingly cry out his name at the height of their ecstasy…
Now, kneeling before her, he felt hot and pleasantly flustered, anticipating a lifelong enjoyment of this responsive, intelligent and no-nonsense beauty. He had only known her for a very short interlude but he felt a surprising connection with her.
Old Mr. Darcy was happily satisfied with their conversation so far. His son knew that he had done wrong, and was taking responsibility for his actions, upholding his duty and honour. And this young woman, though without connections or wealth, seemed an exceptional find, nothing at all like the regrettable Miss Bingley. He felt confident that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would stand up to – and stand by – her husband, for better or worse.
He left the young couple to talk and stepped out of the room again, where he found his valet waiting. As he had suspected, the cup smelt of laudanum and liquor, solving the mystery of Elizabeth’s presence in the room.
As for Fitzwilliam’s side of the tale, old Mr. Darcy had a good idea that it was indeed his rakish godson’s doing. It was evident from the way Wickham had insisted on showing him where Fitzwilliam was, immediately after he finally arrived at Netherfield. Then Mrs. Hurst had appeared by way of the servant’s entrant, most improperly attired. And he had not missed the angry glare that was then shared between Wickham and the married woman.
He found, abruptly, that he did not care. He was altogether sick of providing Wickham with a second, a third, nay, countless chances. It seemed that the young man’s dissolute ways were fixed. Very well, then. Old Mr. Darcy would wash his hands of Wickham. He would buy his godson a commission to India, and have him shipped off immediately. Nor could they stay longer at Netherfield, either.
With a vigorous torrent of plans in his head, old Mr. Darcy returned to the room, where he found that he had interrupted Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth in a sweet embrace. They broke apart, and he told them of his thoughts.
By the time the Darcys and the Bennet sisters drove to Longbourn, Wickham was on his way to Matlock House in London, under the restraint of two sturdy valets, there to await old Mr. Darcy’s nephew Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arrangement for his passage to India.
Mr. Bingley was told, gently but firmly, of their suspicions about Miss Bingley’s use of the laudanum, and of Mrs. Hurst’s scheme with Wickham. A horrified Bingley, after some fierce interrogations, extracted the stories from both sisters. Miss Bingley confessed to the use of the drug but denied any involvement with Mr. Wickham. Mrs. Hurst, in her turn, admitted to the blackmailing scheme. She had been having an affair, on and off, with Wickham for some years. On the day of the scheme, she had spent too much primping and had arrived at the guest chamber too late to enact their scheme.
Sick at heart, Bingley sent them both away, back to Scarborough, after their confessions. Mrs. Hurst did not fall pregnant by Wickham, which was fortunate since her husband separated, unofficially but unequivocally, from her after learning about the affairs and the events of the day.
For his part, Bingley apologised to the Bennets and Darcys most profusely, with obvious sincerity. As a result, the incident did not damage his chance with Jane Bennet or his friendship with Darcy.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy married Miss Elizabeth Bennet some three weeks after the incident at Netherfield. Their premarital union did not result in a child. A year and a half later, however, when old Mr. Darcy handed over the full management of Pemberley to his son, Elizabeth gave birth to an heir. Eventually, old Mr. Darcy was kept busy with his five grandsons and two granddaughters from his son Fitzwilliam’s marriage to Elizabeth. His daughter Georgiana gave him three grandchildren, as well.
The old gentleman did not move out of Pemberley but remained to see the second generation of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy teasing, arguing, comforting and loving each other. The young couple had a happy life, despite the strange beginning of their acquaintance. Old Mr. Darcy gained a good friend in Mr. Bennet, who came to visit his favourite daughter at the most unexpected time. Even the once-silly Mrs. Bennet became rather sensible once she had grown older and all of her daughters were well settled.
As matters transpired, Old Mr. Darcy did not once regret sending his godson to India, despite the fact that the latter was never heard from again.
If Someone Discovers Us
