Pride Prejudice and Perjury

Elizabeth Enlightened

Chapter 14 ~ Elizabeth Enlightened

Elizabeth was roused by a knock on the door; she had apparently fallen asleep. “Lizzy, may I come in?” asked Lydia.

“Yes,” replied Elizabeth, sitting up on her bed and arranging the shawl about her shoulders.

“Were you asleep? Are you quite well, Lizzy? You look very pale, you know. I have such news to tell you,” said Lydia, bursting with pleasure and excitement as she sat down on the seat beside the dressing table. “I am so happy, Lizzy. All my worries and troubles are over! I shall never again need to worry about money and how I shall be able to support myself and little Eleanor. But I had better start at the beginning, for I am sure you have no idea of the matter.”

“Yes, please tell me everything,” said Elizabeth forbearingly; for though she had already guessed it all, she was resigned to allowing her sister the joy of relating her good news.

“As you may have guessed, this is all about my private conversation this morning with Mr. Darcy. You can doubtless imagine how astonished I was when he said that he wished to speak with me, for I could think of nothing he might have to say to me. Well, he began by informing me that he was aware that I had witnessed some conversations between Wickham and Miss Bingley, concerning money and a letter. The letter in question, he said, was written by my husband to himself, and contained scurrilous lies concerning you, and in which, most regrettably, he was eventually persuaded to believe. Miss Bingley, he said, had been giving Wickham money to prevent him from revealing that the letter was, in fact, a fraud.”

Elizabeth nodded, but said nothing.

“Mr. Darcy said that as a consequence of his recent discovery of the fraudulent nature of the letter, Miss Bingley stopped giving Wickham money, as there was no longer any reason. Wickham was, of course, badly in debt, and in arrears in his rent. Without the money from Miss Bingley, he became desperate, and wrote to Mr. Darcy demanding a large amount, and threatening to make public the allegations in his earlier letter if he did not receive it. Mr. Darcy's reply was to name a time and place where he would meet Wickham with his sword.”

Elizabeth gasped. It was just as she had guessed, but still it was shocking to contemplate. “Wickham was killed, then?”

“He deserved to die,” said Lydia, harshly. “Mr. Darcy did not wish to disclose it, but I asked him pointedly whether Wickham was living alone, for I suspected him of forming a liaison with another lady – which Mr. Darcy eventually confirmed to be true.”

“You are a widow, then?”

“No, I am not,” said Lydia, shaking her head.

Elizabeth gasped; all her fears that Mr. Darcy had intended to marry Lydia were for naught! She had to put her hands on the bed to steady herself. It felt as if some great oppressive weight had miraculously been lifted from her chest and she could once again breathe freely. All the tormenting visions of Lydia as Mrs. Darcy were nothing but a bizarre fantasy that had somehow taken hold of her mind.

“Lizzy, are you quite well? You look as if you are about to fall into a swoon,” said Lydia anxiously, resting her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder

Taking another deep breath, and struggling to compose herself, Elizabeth replied, “Thank you, I am well – very well – pray continue. So Wickham survived the duel?”

“Yes. Mr. Darcy easily disarmed him without inflicting injury. He then held his sword at Wickham's heart and offered him a choice: Die, or emigrate to Australia, and never return to England. Mr. Darcy paid off his debts, purchased his passage, and gave him a small sum of money to get him started in the colony as a free settler. Wickham's ship sailed two days ago.”

“A very clever arrangement,” reflected Elizabeth. “There was absolutely no point in demanding Wickham's word that his attempts at blackmail would cease; because his word is worthless. Once he reaches Australia, with his propensity for gambling, he will always be in debt and will never have the money to purchase a return passage. He will live out his life there.”

“Yes, that is exactly what Mr. Darcy said. He apologised for denying me the company of my husband. I told him that no apology was necessary; I never wished to see George Wickham again, and it would have suited me better had he killed the scoundrel, as it would have afforded me the possibility of marrying again.”

“How did he respond?” asked Elizabeth.

“He was unsurprised; and said my feelings about Wickham were entirely understandable; and though he was a wicked, immoral man, who deserved to die, he did not wish to be his killer. It had occurred to him that in choosing to allow Wickham to live, he must unavoidably deny me the opportunity of remarrying. On that account, and on account also of his not previously having made Wickham's character known to the world, which would have prevented the elopement in the first place, he is determined to provide financial support to me and my child. He is to set aside a sum of ten thousand pounds in my name which, upon my death, will pass to Eleanor. The interest will be enough for us to live on comfortably!”

“Good heavens! How generous!”

“I know, Lizzy. I could scarce believe it. I knew that Wickham had abandoned me, and that I could not depend on him in the least to support Eleanor and me. I could live here at Longbourn, I knew, but only during Papa's lifetime, after which it passes to Mr. Collins – and how then was I to live?”

“Jane and Bingley would never have allowed you to become destitute, Lydia, of that you may be certain.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right; but I should so hate for us to have to depend upon the charity of others. God, I wish there was some way to thank Mr. Darcy for his kindness and generosity. After our conversation, he went to speak with Papa about the financial arrangements.”

***

“Lizzy, come to my library for a minute,” requested Mr. Bennet.

Her father seated himself behind his desk and Elizabeth sat uneasily in front of it. “Mr. Darcy has astounded me yet again, Lizzy! No doubt Lydia has given you an account of what transpired between Darcy and George Wickham in London, and of Darcy's determination to settle an endowment of ten thousand pounds upon Lydia and her daughter?”

“Yes; it is an act of unequalled generosity. I find it almost incomprehensible that Mr. Darcy should feel so great a sense of responsibility for Lydia's welfare, to contemplate such a thing.”

“Yes, indeed. It is entirely unprecedented,” agreed her father, shaking his head. “After Mr. Darcy had outlined the precise details of what he intended, I felt obliged to point out to him that should Lydia become a widow and subsequently remarry, there was no provision for him to recover the ten thousand pounds – that it would remain her property. Furthermore, given the high mortality rate amongst those voyaging to the Australian colonies, it was not an entirely unlikely prospect.”

“And how did Mr. Darcy respond?”

“He acknowledged that he was fully aware of the dangers facing George Wickham, and owned that he would not be saddened, in the least, if it transpired that he was unlucky enough to suffer an early demise. Evidently, Darcy had considered that eventuality and the possibility of his widow subsequently remarrying; and though he could have arranged it otherwise, it was his intention that she should retain the ten thousand pounds. ‘If in the event of Mrs. Wickham being widowed, and wishing to remarry, the money may materially assist her in such an endeavour. Your daughter deserves happiness, and if my endowment is of some help in that regard, I shall feel myself amply rewarded,' he said.”

Elizabeth shook her head in wonder; he was truly the most admirable of men. That he had allowed himself to be duped by his scheming aunt still greatly vexed her; yet she must concede that while he might rightly stand accused of family bias, faulty judgement, and a lack of faith in her own good character, it in no way reflected upon his goodness and morality. Indeed, given what he had believed about her, his actions could not be considered unjust or even uncharitable. He went to great lengths to prevent what he believed to be the truth about her character from becoming common knowledge, and divulged the contents of the incriminating letters to not a soul. It indicated that a measure of regard and concern for her welfare must have persisted, notwithstanding his conviction, at that time, of her character being dissolute and tarnished.

Was it possible, Elizabeth conjectured, that in time he might eventually come to love her again – now that his faith in her virtue and good character had been restored? It seemed almost too much to hope. But of her own heart she was now quite certain: After the unbearable anguish she had suffered during that brief period yesterday in which she had so foolishly persuaded herself that Mr. Darcy would marry Lydia, her feelings could no longer be denied. She had never stopped loving him, she now acknowledged – it was only that those feelings had been for a time obscured by other unhappier emotions – just as Victoria Netherby had hinted.

“Lizzy, my dear, you seem somewhat distracted this evening,” said her father.

Startled, Elizabeth realised that her father had been describing the details of the arrangements Mr. Darcy planned to make regarding the ten thousand pounds for Lydia, but she had been so lost in her reverie that she had not comprehended a word of it. “I am sorry, Papa, I must be a little tired,” she said.

“Darcy was most reluctant to receive my gratitude for what he intended to do for Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet. “He claimed it was undeserved as he was merely righting a wrong of his own creation. But I would have none of it, and was determined to acknowledge the considerable efforts and expense that he went to last year in bringing about Lydia's marriage; I obliged him to allow me to thank him for his generosity on that occasion, also.”

“What was his reaction?”

Mr. Bennet laughed. “He appeared quite put out that I knew anything of the matter, and asked me how I had become aware of it. I told him that I heard it all from you, and explained how you first learned of his involvement from Lydia and then obtained the entire story from your aunt.”

“And how did he respond?”

“In a most peculiar manner,” replied Mr. Bennet shaking his head. “Something about you possessing an extraordinary ability at penetrating mysteries. I have not the slightest idea as to what he could possibly be alluding – do you, my dear?”

Elizabeth blushed and looked confused.

“Do not worry, Lizzy, he probably meant nothing by it – he is somewhat eccentric, I think. In any case, he seemed perfectly satisfied at my reply, that your powers of penetration are great, indeed. He then made clear his wish that as few people as possible should know of either act of generosity concerning Lydia. He is a man who does not like the world to know of his private affairs, I think.”

“True,” agreed Elizabeth. “And in particular, of his association and dealings with George Wickham. With regard to Lydia's marriage, only my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, Jane, you and I are aware of all that he has done; even Lydia does not know the whole of it.”

“Yes,” said her father with a sigh, “but in the case of the endowment of ten thousand pounds, your mother knows of it, and it would be entirely pointless to ask her to exercise discretion in the matter. If Mrs. Long, and half of Meryton do not already know of Lydia's good fortune, they very soon will!”

***

By early November, Elizabeth was contemplating returning to the north. Her mother had been in one of her ebullient moods ever since Darcy's visit, and could not stop talking about Lydia's good fortune and all the fine clothes that her daughter might spend her newly acquired wealth upon. Fortunately, Lydia had become surprisingly sensible and level-headed, and had no intention of wasting her money imprudently. She intended to continue living at Longbourn, although she hinted to Elizabeth that she would very much like to pay a visit to Jane and Bingley in Cheshire when little Eleanor was old enough to make the journey.

Mrs. Bennet was a person who could not easily tolerate her own company; she must have companions – one at the very least – to whom she could incessantly recite the erratic ramblings of her mind. It was an occupation that her husband refused to countenance. With Kitty well on the way to matrimony, it was greatly to her mother's advantage, considered Elizabeth, that Lydia should make her home at Longbourn. Elizabeth admired her younger sister's ability to cheerfully endure her mother's endless chatter, which, apart from Lydia's recent windfall, often turned upon strategies of hastening Jonathon Chester's proposal of marriage to Kitty. Elizabeth felt confident that left to his own devices, he would come to the point soon enough. Mrs. Bennet, however, could not be persuaded that any gentleman could be relied upon to behave sensibly in such an important matter, and that a firm hand and a well-devised scheme was the best means of ensuring a satisfactory outcome.

Aside from wishing to escape her mother's tiresome conversation, Elizabeth had received an invitation from Georgiana to attend a ball at Pemberley in honour of her birthday at the end of November. She was anxious to re-establish herself in the neighbourhood, and comprehend how she would be received in society, now that she was no longer a pariah – and though perhaps she would not admit it to herself, she was eager to be in the company of Mr. Darcy, and to learn what were his feelings for her.