Fitzwilliam sniggered at Bingley’s suggestion and rejoined: “Iam uncertain if even the carriage breaking to pieces about her would be enough to wake her. Anne has told me of times when she has had to shake her mother to rouse her, even after the shortest journeys.”
“Then we may speak without fear of being overheard,” said Bingley, looking at Lady Catherine as if he expected her to open her eyes and begin berating them at any moment.
“No fear at all,” replied Fitzwilliam.
“Well, that is a relief and no mistake,” said Bingley, sighing. “As I informed you before, I do not think I have ever made the acquaintance of someone quite like your aunt.”
“It is my fervent hope, Bingley,” said Fitzwilliam, “that there is not another like Aunt Catherine. If there is, the world might not survive.”
Bingley snorted a laugh at this observation, but Fitzwilliam only grinned and turned to Darcy. “The situation with Anne notwithstanding, I find myself pleased by our present progress toward Meryton, Darcy.”
“And why would that be?” asked Darcy, though he already suspected what his cousin would say.
“Why, because it takes us closer to Wickham. Even if he is not involved with this business, I still think it is about time to deal with him. Permanently.”
“I shall not gainsay you,” replied Darcy with a sigh. “Not this time.”
Fitzwilliam regarded Darcy and then turned to Bingley. “You know, Bingley old chap, we have had this conversation many times, and Darcy has always found some reason to offer the worthless bounder clemency. What do you suppose is different aboutthistime?”
“The presence of a potential lady love, perhaps?” suggested Bingley, not hiding his grin in the slightest.
“That is a possibility.” Fitzwilliam regarded him for somemoments then said: “If that is so, then I wonder why he did not deal with Wickham last autumn when the cur appeared.”
“Ah, but I suspect Darcy was fighting his attraction then. Now that he has had additional time in her company in Kent, he has no more will to fight against her allure.”
“That must be it,” replied Fitzwilliam, showing a beatific smile. “I always knew a woman would one day be his undoing. I trust that Miss Elizabeth will be gentle with him, for he is not a bad sort.”
“Then it is fortunate that we travel toward Meryton and his destiny, no matter what else awaits us. Had I a glass in my hand, I would offer a toast to the fair Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”
“Have a care,” said Darcy. “It is not beyond the realm of possibility that Lady Catherine might awake.”
“Yes, it is,” retorted Fitzwilliam.
Darcy shook his head. While he esteemed Fitzwilliam and loved him as his cousin above any other man alive, he had the distressing tendency to believe himself humorous. At times like these, when his cousin got it into his head to tease indiscriminately, Darcy would as soon plant a facer on him, if only to induce him to be silent.
“I believe, my chortling cousin, that we need to concentrate on Anne.”
“We will find them both in Meryton,” said Fitzwilliam. “Or beyond Meryton if he has taken her so far. I have never been so certain about the veracity of my intuition as I was when word arrived of Wickham’s sighting in Watford. He will go to Meryton—mark my words.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” replied Darcy, “but given the time of day, it is likely he is already beyond Meryton.”
“Yes, I must suppose you are correct.” Fitzwilliam sat back and considered the situation. “Given he has only two choices beyond Meryton, I must suppose that he will make for Luton.As he has already abandoned the Great North Road, he will worry that any pursuit has already traveled beyond him should he return there. Thus, he will take the more westerly road to the north, perhaps eventually passing through Manchester or Liverpool.”
“Gretna is on the western end of the border, as I recall,” observed Bingley.
“That it is,” agreed Fitzwilliam. “But if Wickham thinks he shall reach it unobstructed, he is out of his wits. I doubt he will approach within one hundred miles.”
“Excellent,” replied Bingley. “That means I shall return to Netherfield, the earlier the better.”
“Oh?” asked Fitzwilliam lazily, though Darcy caught his cousin’s darted glance. “I sense a tale here, Bingley. Haveyoualso found yourself entrapped by a lady as Darcy has?”
“Entrapped is not the correct word,” said Bingley with a grin. “Ensorcelled might be closer to the truth, though I cannot say if she will have me.”
“How could she resist?” teased Fitzwilliam. “Unless, of course, you managed to botch your wooing altogether.”
“Alas, I fear I may have done just that,” said Bingley, clearly enjoying the banter. “For you see, though she is the kindest, most beauteous and fair woman in all the land, I foolishly failed to return when I left in November, and now must risk a broken heart forever.”
“You do not say, Bingley,” said Fitzwilliam. “Given the quality of the creature you describe, I cannot account for such laxness. What prevented you from returning? Or should I say whom?”
