A Companion For Miss Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 17

  ‘But are you sure of this?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘Alas, I am. I have personal experience of it. I have been badly used by Mr Darcy, Miss Bennet. I make no complaint, and I would not mention it now, except to demonstrate that I have intimate knowledge of his character. Mr Darcy’s father left me a living so that I might go into the church and be provided for, respectably, for the rest of my life. But when his father died, Mr Darcy told me that the living, which had been put aside for me, should never be mine.’

  Elizabeth could not at first believe it. But Mr Wickham’s voice held a note of truth, and she had her own experiences to guide her. Mr Darcy had given her employment and then taken it away from her, without any explanation.

  ‘It is not of my own grievances, however, that I wish to speak, but of another affair,’ said Mr Wickham. ‘I would not mention it ordinarily, but as you are no longer Miss Darcy’s companion, I feel I must mention it, in case he has distressed you. I do not know why you are no longer Miss Darcy’s companion, but I know that her previous companion was dismissed for no reason and I am concerned lest the same thing happened to you. I know that Mrs Younge was very upset for some time afterwards, wondering what she had done wrong, when in fact she was blameless. I should not wish you to feel the same.’

  ‘Was this last summer?’ asked Elizabeth.

  A cautious look crossed his face, but he said, ‘Yes. Why? Have you heard something of it?’

  ‘Nothing certain, simply hints that something happened last summer.’

  Mr Wickham nodded.

  ‘Then I will tell you what happened, as I feel I must put you on your guard. Miss Darcy’s previous companion went with her to Ramsgate. I happened to be there at the same time. Miss Darcy was there for the summer, but I was only there for a few days. I met her by chance, just as I met her by chance the other day in Meryton. She was out walking with her companion along the seafront. She was rather shy, partly because she is growing up —’

  He paused, and Elizabeth thought, Yes, she is growing up, and is no doubt aware that her former playmate is now a handsome and charming man.

  ‘ — and partly because her brother told me she must have nothing to do with me.’

  ‘But if you have known her since infancy . . . this is shocking,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Yes, it is. But I am the son of a steward and Mr Darcy is a proud man. There is also the fact that he has used me ill. As is so often the case, people who use others ill do not want to see them, for they do not want to be reminded of their own despicable behaviour. You will have seen that he left the neighbourhood as soon as he knew I had arrived.’

  ‘That is true enough,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I wondered if his sudden flight had anything to do with your arrival, but I never guessed at such a cause. I would not have believed it of him, if I had not my own experiences to draw on. But you were telling me what happened last summer.’

  Mr Wickham nodded.

  ‘Yes, I must speak. You must know of it. Then you will know you are not the only companion to have been used ill by him. To return to last summer, then. By chance, Mr Darcy paid his sister a visit in Ramsgate and he saw me talking to Miss Darcy. I talked to her for only a few moments before going on my way, but that was enough for him. He dismissed Miss Darcy’s companion for allowing his sister to talk to me, and took Miss Darcy back to London.’

  This so exactly matched her own situation that Elizabeth could not doubt it.

  ‘I knew he was proud, but not that his pride would lead him into such behaviour,’ said Elizabeth. She felt downcast, both at learning more about Mr Darcy’s ungentlemanlike behaviour, and at her own blindness in judging him incorrectly. She was a student of human nature and she had always prided herself on her ability to understand people, but in the case of Mr Darcy she had been entirely wrong.

  ‘He grows more proud every time I see him,’ said Mr Wickham. ‘I believe it has something to do with his forthcoming marriage.’

  ‘His marriage!’ Elizabeth exclaimed. She was so surprised that she went on, indiscreetly. ‘Do not tell me that Miss Bingley has caught him at last!’

  ‘Miss Bingley?’ Mr Wickham shook his head. ‘No. He is promised to his cousin, a very proud and haughty young woman named Miss Anne de Bourgh. Her mother is Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and Lady Catherine is the daughter of an earl. The family have always been very proud and as the time of the marriage draws near, Mr Darcy becomes more and more concerned with his own status, and the status of his sister.’

  Elizabeth now felt her humiliation was complete. Not only had she judged Mr Darcy incorrectly, taking him to be a kind and generous gentleman, but she had also allowed herself to develop romantic feelings towards him. Yes, let her not deny it, at least not to herself. She had been attracted to his personality, as well as his person, and she had allowed herself to cherish secret hopes that her feelings might be returned. She had rejected the idea when Charlotte had spoken of it as a possibility, but in her heart of hearts she had thought . . . had hoped . . . that he felt tenderly towards her.

  She was now paid out for her folly. Mr Darcy had never thought of her in that way. He had known all along that he was self-destined for his cousin, the daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the granddaughter of an earl. And she, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, had thought he might entertain feelings for her! Oh, foolish, foolish Elizabeth, she admonished herself.

  Her one consolation was that no one else had known of her secret hopes and dreams. She had not exposed her folly to the world, and so she could retain her dignity.

  To be sure, everyone in the neighbourhood would soon know that she was no longer Miss Darcy’s companion, but that could be explained away by Mr Darcy returning to London. It would not convince everyone – there would always be some people who wondered about it, and chattered about it – but it would be a seven days wonder, and other, more interesting matters, would soon interest the gossips.

  As she thought this, she glanced at her sister, Jane. She felt a warm feeling stealing over her as she saw Jane dancing with Mr Bingley. The evident happiness of the young couple soothed her own heartbreak and began to restore her spirits.

  Mr Wickham followed her gaze.

  ‘Mr Bingley seems to be a fine gentleman,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I cannot understand how such an amiable man as Mr Bingley can be Mr Darcy’s friend. After everything you have told me, and everything I myself have suffered, I do not understand it.’

  ‘Mr Darcy can be very pleasant when he chooses, as you are no doubt aware. As Mr Bingley has never crossed him, he continues to be a good friend to him. I know very little of Mr Bingley as yet, but I believe the friendship suits Mr Darcy. He has someone on hand who looks up to him and admires him; someone of a respectable rank but not so high that it threatens his own; someone of agreeable looks, but not so handsome as to cast his own looks in the shade; someone with a respectable fortune, but not one which can rival that of the Darcys. Someone, in short, who throws Mr Darcy’s own advantages into greater relief.’

  ‘Do you know Mr Bingley well?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘I know him by reputation only. Before tonight, we had never met. Even so, he has been kind enough to invite me to the Netherfield ball. If you and your sisters are going, might I have the honour of your hand for the first dance?’

  Elizabeth gave her attention back to Mr Wickham. This was just what she needed to help her over her time of crisis. She had been a fool over Mr Darcy, and she was still heartsore from the whole debacle. She had credited him with a personality he did not have. She had admired him on a short acquaintance, and she had allowed herself to develop romantic feelings towards him. Even worse, she had imagined those feelings could be returned.

  Now, she had nothing to do but learn from her mistakes and put them behind her.

  Luckily for Elizabeth, she was not one to dwell on her problems. She had a robust spirit and she was determined not to succumb to the melancholy which, from time to time, had t
hreatened her since her parents’ death. Her family needed her, and she would not retire to her room and indulge in hysterics, as her mother would have done in distressing circumstances. She would, instead, endeavour to recover from her disappointment as quickly as possible.

  And here was Mr Wickham offering her a way to do just that.

  ‘Thank you, yes,’ she said.

  ‘I only hope—’ said Mr Wickham, stopping abruptly.

  Elizabeth followed his gaze, which rested on Mr Bingley and Jane.

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Elizabeth.

  ‘I only hope that Mr Darcy does not withdraw his friendship from Mr Bingley, if Mr Bingley crosses him. I know that Mr Darcy would like his sister to marry one of his friends; someone under his influence, who looked up to him and admired him.’

  Elizabeth took Mr Wickham’s meaning at once. If Mr Bingley asked Jane to marry him, he might lose Mr Darcy’s favour.

  ‘I do not think Mr Bingley needs Mr Darcy’s patronage,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It will not matter to him if he loses Mr Darcy’s favour.’

  ‘No, of course not. Except . . . but no matter, I have said too much already.’

  ‘No, please,’ said Elizabeth, ‘go on.’

  ‘Except that Mr Darcy might use his influence to make sure his friend does not displease him.’

  His meaning was clear. Mr Darcy might use his influence to make sure Mr Bingley did not propose to Jane.

  ‘Fortunately, Mr Darcy is in London and Mr Bingley is in Hertfordshire,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘I am glad of it,’ said Mr Wickham.

  Mr Wickham was called away to make up a card table and Elizabeth was left to some uncomfortable thoughts. She knew that Mr Bingley would see Mr Darcy again sooner or later. If Jane was not betrothed by then, there was a chance that Mr Darcy would talk Mr Bingley out of proposing. In this, he would be helped by Miss Bingley.

  Elizabeth only hoped a betrothal would soon be forthcoming, perhaps at the Netherfield ball. Then Jane’s future would be assured, and not even Mr Darcy could jeopardise it.

  At that moment, Jane came to sit beside her. Mr Bingley had been called upon to dance with a dowager and so the two sisters had time to converse. Elizabeth shared what she had learnt from Mr Wickham.

  ‘I cannot believe it,’ said Jane, when Elizabeth had told her what Mr Wickham said. ‘Mr Darcy cannot be so lost to all goodness as to deprive Mr Wickham of a living, or to make a habit of dismissing companions for no reason.’

  ‘He dismissed me,’ Elizabeth pointed out.

  Jane could not deny it.

  ‘What did Mr Bingley have to say about the matter?’ Elizabeth continued. ‘Did he have any useful information to offer?’

  ‘No,’ confessed Jane. ‘He could not understand why Mr Darcy left in such a hurry, nor did he know anything about Mr Darcy’s dealings with Mr Wickham.’

  ‘Never mind. We know everything now,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Mr Darcy did not want his sister to mingle with Mr Wickham, nor did he want to face Mr Wickham, after the terrible wrong he had done him.’

  ‘It is very shocking,’ said Jane. ‘I cannot help feeling there has been some mix-up somewhere.’

  ‘Dear Jane,’ said Elizabeth affectionately. ‘You would excuse him if you could, I know, but we must face the truth. We were deceived in Mr Darcy. He can be charming and generous and kind if he chooses, but he can also be arrogant and autocratic and disdainful of others when it no longer suits his purpose to be otherwise.’

  ‘I am grieved to think it,’ said Jane, ‘but I suppose it must be true.’

  The two sisters were soon joined by Lydia and Kitty, who slumped down on a sofa next to them.

  Lydia said she was fagged.

  ‘I have danced every dance,’ she said. ‘Even Mary danced twice!’

  ‘Captain Denny is the most handsome man I have ever seen,’ said Kitty dreamily.

  ‘Pooh!’ said Lydia. ‘Mr Wickham is far more handsome.’

  ‘Mr Wickham never looked twice at you,’ said Kitty.

  ‘That shows what you know! He has promised to dance with me at the Netherfield ball.’

  ‘You mean you asked him to dance with you,’ said Kitty.

  ‘Lydia,’ admonished Jane gently. ‘I hope you did no such thing.’

  Lydia was obviously uncomfortable and she changed the subject at once.

  ‘You will never guess why Charlotte has gone to visit her grandmother,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, dear, I do hope the old lady is not ill,’ said Jane compassionately.

  ‘Nothing of the sort!’ said Lydia. ‘She has gone there to chase after Mr Collins!’

  ‘Lydia!’ said Jane. ‘You must not say such things.’

  ‘It is true,’ said Lydia. ‘I heard it from Charlotte’s brother. Their grandmother lives near Mr Collins’s lodgings and Charlotte intends to marry him.’

  Elizabeth and Jane glanced at each other in consternation.

  ‘I am sure she does not,’ said Jane.

  ‘She does,’ asserted Kitty. ‘Her brother says so. What is more, he hopes she manages it. He does not want to face the shame of having a sister who is an old maid. You should have married him when you had the chance, Jane. Now Charlotte will be the mistress of Longbourn and turn us all out of our house.’

  ‘I wish Mr Collins would come back at once,’ said Lydia. ‘If he has not asked Charlotte to marry him by the time he returns, then Kitty and I are going to make him marry Mary. To be sure, he is not very handsome, and he is a pompous ass, but Mary will not mind, since she is not very handsome and is something of a pompous ass herself.’

  ‘Lydia!’ Elizabeth admonished her. ‘You must not say such things.’

  But Lydia took no notice of her.

  ‘You do not want Charlotte to be the mistress of Longbourn any more than I do,’ said Lydia, unrepentant.

  ‘Lydia, keep your voice down,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You must not indulge in this idle gossip. Look, there is a game of lottery tickets about to start. Go and take your place at the table.’

  Lydia loved lottery tickets more than she loved gossip, and soon she was engaged in the game, with Kitty beside her.

  Elizabeth and Jane looked at each other.

  ‘Do you think it can be true?’ Jane asked Elizabeth.

  ‘I hope not,’ said Elizabeth. ‘But my judgement of people has gone sadly astray recently and I do not know. If it is, then Charlotte and I can never be on the same terms of friendship again.’

  Mr Bingley arrived and claimed Jane’s hand for the next dance, leaving Elizabeth to ponder her future. Some of it seemed bleak. But luckily there was a bright spot in the form of the Netherfield ball, and in the thought that she would be dancing the first dance with Mr Wickham.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As the Bennets enjoyed their dinner party, Miss Charlotte Lucas was engaged in a more serious matter: the matter of getting a husband. Charlotte was twenty-seven years old. She was not yet an old maid, but she was no longer young, and her chances of a respectable marriage were dwindling every year.

  When Mr Collins had arrived in Meryton, she had not been surprised when he made Jane the object of his gallantry. Jane was by far the most beautiful young lady in the neighbourhood. Added to this, in marrying her, Mr Collins would be able to make reparation for inheriting her family home. Charlotte had made no attempt to attract Mr Collins, since she had never considered it possible that he would propose to her.

  But since Jane had rejected him, Charlotte knew there was a chance for her. If Mr Collins had been a sensible man, this would not have been the case, but he was something of a fool. Now that Jane had rejected him, he had no clear direction in life and Charlotte was clever enough to realise it. She realised that he could be steered, by a clever woman, into the direction she wished him to take.

  Charlotte was not witty or brilliant, like ELizabeth, but she had enough intelligence to see a future for herself with Mr Collins, and to decide it was better than any other future she was likely to obta
in. She had no wish to remain at home and look after her parents in their dotage. Since the best option open to her was, therefore, marriage, she had been looking about her for some time, hoping to secure a husband. Alas for Charlotte, eligible gentlemen were thin on the ground in Meryton.

  That had changed somewhat with the arrival of the officers, but Charlotte did not fancy a future spent following the drum. And so her thoughts had returned to Mr Collins, a young man with a fine estate, who could be led to the altar by a clever woman.

  Whilst Mr Collins had remained at Longbourn, Charlotte saw no chance for herself. Jane’s beauty and Elizabeth’s wit would always outshine her. But once Mr Collins returned to his lodgings, to tie up the loose ends of his old life before deciding what to do with his new life, she saw her chance.

  An examination of her numerous relations showed her that her maternal grandmother lived in the same town as Mr Collins. A letter to her grandmother had resulted in a speedy invitation. And so, on the morning after Elizabeth spoke to Mr Wickham, Miss Charlotte Lucas found herself walking down the High Street with her grandmother, in the hope of a chance encounter with Mr Collins.

  That morning produced no results. But each morning she went walking and at last she was in luck.

  ‘Why, if it is not Mr Collins,’ she said, as Mr Collins approached her.

  He had his head down but when she spoke, he looked up and beamed.

  ‘Miss —’

  ‘Lucas,’ supplied Charlotte. ‘We met in Meryton. I am a friend of the Bennets.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ said Mr Collins, rubbing his hands together, and then belatedly remembering to bow.

  ‘Might I introduce my grandmother, Mrs Shale?’ asked Charlotte.

  Mrs Shale was an impressive woman, dressed in black silk with a veil over her face.