Though he was certain she did not agree, she did not press the matter. “Well, there is no longer any need to pretend. I returned the visit, though I waited an appropriate time to show my disinclination for her company. She will not presume any longer.”
Darcy watched her, certain that Miss Bingley’s open disdain for others would one day redound to her detriment. “You delayed before returning the visit?”
“Three weeks,” confirmed the woman, taking satisfaction in her contemptible behavior.
“That was not well done,” sighed Darcy, knowing she would not hear him anyway. “There is never a need to show anything other than civility, even if you do not wish to associate withanother. Telling her when she visited or making your wishes clear during your call would have been sufficient.”
“Why you think I should concern myself with such insignificant people I cannot say.”
“Because, Miss Bingley,” replied Darcy, fixing her with a pointed look, “civility is the very soul of society. How one treats others, even when one cares little for them, shows more about us than words ever could. One never knows when actions taken in anger or contempt will return to haunt us later.”
As Darcy expected, Miss Bingley did not agree with him, though she returned to her sister and Georgiana, the two ladies departing soon after. Darcy watched them go and wondered if it was time to inform Bingley that visits to Georgiana would no longer be welcome and instruct the housekeeper to deny them entry. Though he had no wish to affect Bingley’s standing, visits to his young sister were not proper, and Darcy had little wish to endure the woman in his own home.
“Brother,” came Georgiana’s voice, her expression curious. “Of what were you speaking with Miss Bingley?”
“Nothing of importance, Georgiana,” replied Darcy, his mind still on the visit.
“It seemed to be of significant importance to Miss Bingley,” said Georgiana.
Darcy regarded his sister, then sighed. “She wished to speak about a visit she received from a woman we knew in Hertfordshire, a Miss Bennet.”
Georgiana regarded him, uncertain. “Miss Bennet? Is that the same Miss Bennet of whom you wrote when you were in Hertfordshire?”
Recalling the letters to his sister, Darcy shook his head. “I may have mentioned Miss Bennet, though I do not remember. The lady of whom I wrote was her younger sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Yes, that was her name,” agreed Georgiana. “As I recall, she and her sister stayed at Mr. Bingley’s estate for some days.”
“They did,” agreed Darcy. “Miss Bennet became ill during a dinner party with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and Miss Elizabeth came to Netherfield to nurse her sister.”
“To own the truth,” said Georgiana, “I wish that I had been there. From what I recall of your missives, Miss Elizabeth did not hesitate to prick Miss Bingley’s vanity.”
“And you think that Miss Bingley’s vanity needs to be punctured?”
“Doyounot think it does?”
With a laugh, Darcy agreed she was correct.
Looking back on the event, Darcy recollected Miss Bingley’s superiority when speaking of her rudeness to Miss Bennet. If any member of the Bennet family did not deserve such treatment, it was Miss Bennet, for while Darcy had never found her especially interesting, she was as genteel a woman as Darcy had ever met. It was further evidence of Miss Bingley’s poor character that she could treat such a gentle soul with contempt.
As the matter had happened without his knowledge or interference, there had been nothing he could do—nor would he have attempted to make amends even if it was his place to do so. At the time, he had still clung to his conviction that it was for the best that Bingley remained separate from Miss Bennet. Now, of course, he was not so certain.
The crux of the matter was whether Darcy had any right to keep the truth from Bingley. As a man full-grown and master of his own path, Bingley had the right to choose for himself, and if he chose Miss Bennet despite the defects in her situation, what right did Darcy have to question him? If Bingley decided he wanted Miss Bennet for a wife anyway, he would make much the same calculation that Darcy had made himself. That was an uncomfortable truth, but no less valid.
Bingley was out of town at present, having left with his family to visit a friend in Buckinghamshire, but Darcy knew he would return soon. The only reason Miss Bingley had agreed to it at all was that Darcy had been away visiting his aunt in Kent—had he remained in town, he knew Miss Bingley would have insisted they remain too. Though Darcy could not inform his friend of his new intelligence now, he knew he must do so the moment Bingley returned. There was no other choice than to confess his error, relate what he had learned from Miss Elizabeth, and allow Bingley to proceed as he wished.
The other matter was, of course, George Wickham himself, the threat he posed to the community. Though Darcy had vowed not to involve himself in Wickham’s intrigues or cover his debts, his honor would demand that he discharge any debts because he had remained silent in the autumn. This time, however, it would be different, for Darcy was not about to allow Wickham to escape again. The truth was that Darcy ought to have dealt with Wickham the previous summer when he had found Wickham in Ramsgate attempting to persuade Georgiana to elope with him. Darcy would not make that mistake again.
As Wickham had been in Meryton for some months already, Darcy judged that there would be little difference in waiting for Bingley’s return for a few days or making for Meryton that very morning. Instead, he sent an express to Pemberley asking his steward to send him the stack of Wickham’s debts in both Lambton and Cambridge. Depending on what debt Wickham had amassed in Meryton, he might not need them, but he preferred to have them on hand. Once Wickham was in custody, he would petition his uncle to see him transported. The thought of Wickham laboring in the penal colony on the other side of the world appealed to Darcy. Wickham would finally be gone from his life forever.
Chapter III
Determined though she was to put a spoke in Mr. Wickham’s wheel and expose him as the libertine he was, Elizabeth had not expected to encounter him so soon after her return. Action against him was necessary but not pressing. Whatever damage he had caused was already done, though she supposed it was possible he might attempt a seduction while she delayed. Elizabeth did not intend to wait for long, but she thought it best to understand the situation better before she made her move. It was only prudent, after all.
Given her youngest sisters’ interest in the officers, surprise formed no part of her response to the officers’ visit the day after her return. Rather, Elizabeth looked on the visit as an opportunity for a little investigation. In this, she was not disappointed, as Mr. Wickham seemed to view her as his partner in some conspiracy, as if four months of pursuing Miss King for her dowry had never happened. What he meant by it, Elizabeth could not say, but she found herself the “happy” recipient of his attention not long after he entered the room.
The officers as a group were a decent enough lot, though after the initial novelty of their coming, Elizabeth had not considered them especially interesting. Along with Mr. Wickham came Mr. Denny, Mr. Chamberlayne, and Mr. Sanderson, the usual cohort that Lydia praised to the skies. They directed their compliments to Mrs. Bennet upon entering the room as was proper, then turned to Lydia and Kitty, the most eager to give them consequence. It was not long after that, however, when Mr. Wickham excused himself from the group and approached Elizabeth.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, bowing at the precise angle he should, then fixing her with a most engaging smile when he straightened. “How fortunate it is that you have returned.”