Sharon Lathan - In the Arms of Mr. Darcy

“William, please…”

“I know I promised you that I would let the past die, forget Wickham’s affronts against me and those I love. As long as he was gone and silent I have been able to put it aside—”

Lizzy rose, halting his words. He frowned, watching as she walked toward the window with back to him. “Beloved?”

“And now,” she spoke in a tremulous whisper, “because of stupid Lydia you are related to him! How could you bear it? Marrying me knowing he was a part of the bargain? I am so sorry, William!”

He was across the room before the first sentence was finished. Hands grasping her arms and face stern as he whirled her about. “Don’t be ridiculous! I would cross hell and back for you, Elizabeth! You know this. As greatly as I despise Wickham, it is a paltry price to pay for the honor and pleasure of being your husband. Do you not see the truth of it, my love? Perhaps I should have shared all with you long ago so you would fully comprehend.” He drew her into his embrace, sturdy arms firm about her body, unwavering and secure. “Wickham has been a bane in my life since childhood. He would have continued to be so, I am convinced of it. Do you have any concept of how many ‘Lydias’ there were before her? Believe me, George Wickham feasted on such innocence, to my eternal disgust, as I witnessed the behavior more times than I can count.”

He kissed her crown, breathing deeply of her fragrance. Lizzy held tight, comforted by his strength and steadily beating heart. “Lydia had nothing to do with you, my soul. Wickham may have sensed my regard for you as he knew me well, but months separated those weeks in Hertfordshire and the events at Brighton. He had no clue as to the depth of my love for you, and as we were not together at the time, it is impossible for him to have suspected that his dalliance with Lydia would profoundly affect me. He was absolutely shocked when I showed up in London. No, it was entirely coincidence. And entirely my fault as I have stated before.”

Lizzy pulled away from his arms, it now her turn to glare at him sternly. “Now it is you who are being ridiculous!” she snapped. “All you have told me, both today and before, merely clarified Wickham’s propensity toward mischief in general. Surely you are not the only one in all his acquaintance to divine his character?”

“No, but I had intimate knowledge and the means to thwart him.”

She laughed harshly. “Oh really, William. Be sensible. Even if you had spoken the truth, ‘exposed him’ as you stated in Lambton, what possible good would it have done? You are only one man and England is a big country. I do not think even you have that much power. You were wise to not risk damaging Georgiana’s reputation and your father’s good name. Maybe I would have listened and not been so blind, but Lydia would not have. You said yourself that Wickham is a manipulative charmer—”

“Indeed he is!” He brushed his hands angrily through his hair, pivoting on his heels to resume pacing. “I do not trust this disappearance or this past year of quiescence. Elizabeth, he may have been ignorant of my feelings toward you before, but no longer. Furthermore, he knows I have a son.”

He stopped abruptly, face thunderous, but eyes inundated with dread. “I will not be a fool who wears blinders and gullibly believes all is well while the fox is loose in the henhouse! He is a blackguard and nothing that has been reported to me this past year has altered my opinion of him. So, yes, I do wish to know what he is up to, not only for Lydia’s sake!”

“And if your hands accidentally find themselves around his throat, then so be it? Or if harm befalls you in the search or at his hands, what then? Will it have been worth it?”

They both paused, respirations heavy and audible as they stared at each other from opposite sides of Darcy’s large desk.

Lizzy broke the silent tableau first, her voice soft. “I still maintain that vengeance is not a trait near your heart, my dearest. Caution, vigilance, protectiveness, wisdom, and temperance, among a legion of other fine attributes, are the earmark of the man I married. I concur that we should be wary, Wickham not a man to be taken lightly. But I refuse to allow his existence to impinge upon our life and disrupt our happiness. Think how that would please him!”

She smiled, lips lifted in the teasing manner he found utterly delightful.

“And Lydia?” He asked quietly.

Lizzy shook her head, slowly stepping around the desk. “It grieves me, but she is not our primary concern. Besides, all your reports have shown that for all his faults, Wickham seems oddly to care for my sister. And they must be together, or I am sure she would be running back to Longbourn.” She was before him now, palms reaching to encompass his face. “I think we need to make a new vow, beloved. You will relinquish your misplaced guilt, but we will not wholly forget the past affairs with Wickham. Heedful, yes, but not aggressively seeking problems where none exist.”

“Is this more of the superior wisdom of my wife?”

Lizzy laughed. “If you wish to proclaim it so, then yes.”

They were long since returned to Pemberley and enmeshed in the delights of a fine summer before a new communication from Lydia was conveyed to the Bennets. The Wickhams had settled in Exeter of all places, supposedly running an inn. The details were vague, but her tone was cheery and positive. Letters from Lydia to Elizabeth were nonexistent and eventually Lizzy gave up all attempts to communicate directly with her sister. What news she received was via her parents, and that was sporadic as Lydia wrote rarely. Children were never mentioned and this was taken as a merciful development as Darcy shuddered to imagine Wickham as a father. “Perhaps he cannot sire children,” Darcy said once to Lizzy. “It would explain how he managed not to compromise any of his numerous bed partners over the years.”

As time passed, they found less and less reasons to mention the Wickham name. Darcy harkened to the advice of his wife and let the matter go. Gradually, his guilt faded, but he never surrendered his distrust or wariness. 

The two mounted men galloped to the small rise, reining in their heaving horses as they surveyed the rolling Hertfordshire fields below. The darker of the two gazed without really registering the vista, caught up with internal musings. The other young man turned to his silent companion with a sunny smile.

“Once again I have bested you! Really, Falke, you must try harder.” The jest was lost, however, as Falke remained silent. “Very well, then. Tell me what the tyrannical old codger said.”

“You know that my father is neither tyrannical nor old, but I thank you for the attempt to lighten my mood.” Falke sighed heavily, only then turning to his friend. “He was unmoved by the declarations of my affection. Offered all the rationales that I anticipated, and although I tried to contradict, I really could not do so with great vigor.”

“Her connection with the Darcys did not sway his opinion?”

“No. He said that Mr. Darcy, for all his wealth and station, is not a peer of the realm so the strict rules do not apply as forcefully. ‘The son of Viscount who will someday inherit the title,’ he stated flatly, ‘must rise above the petty whims of desire. Honor and duty must prevail.’ I hoped that the bewitching Mrs. Darcy, accepted and venerated by all, would soften his attitude. Alas, no.”

“I am sorry, my friend. Would that I could help, but you know I am in the same predicament. Luckily, I am not of a romantic nature.”

“I never particularly thought myself so either, but a sparkling pair of eyes and dainty dimples changed all that.”

“Not to mention a lush figure.”

“Don’t be vulgar, Nash. Miss Bennet’s figure, although enticing, was not the draw and you know it!”

“Of course not. It was her multitudinous accomplishments, keen intelligence, and stellar connections.”

Falke glared. “Are you trying to make me angry?”

“Only reminding you of what you already know. You said yourself that you could not argue his reasons. Miss Bennet is a delight, we all agree on that Falke, but for marriage? It was never going to happen, and I think you have always known that.”

“I prayed her charms would overrule the deficits. None of those matters bother me, and I would be the one married to her, so why should it disturb my father?”

“Again, you already know the answer to your question. And do not be so sure her ‘deficits’ would not come to annoy. Can you seriously imagine marriage to a woman of little intelligence and fewer accomplishments? A country girl with no knowledge of what would be required as Lady Gresham? I think you would be bored and disappointed within a year.”

“Do you think me so shallow, Nash?”

“Not shallow, but the fact that you are not ranting and raging against your father, or mutinously scurrying off to Gretna Green, means you are unsure of your own heart. I know you well, my friend. You are a stubborn man who does not normally buckle easily.”

Falke resumed his gaze of the landscape. In all honesty he knew that the words of both his father and Thomas Nash were right. His affection for Kitty Bennet, although real, was evidently not so intense as to defy his entire family. He envied Darcy who had been master of his own life and able to act on his wishes.

He sighed sadly, eyes closing in true regret, voice mumbled when he spoke. “How shall I ever face her disappointment?”

Nash was surprised. “Have you extended any promises? Surely you were not so foolish!”