How could she have done it? Is her understanding so mean, her will so pitiless, that she would throw me away at any cost? She might have ruined my mind, or murdered me outright!
Mr Collins, in her memory, was vacuous, vague, and voluble. It was incredible and yet unsurprising that he could not have understood her to be out of her wits, but then, he truly cared only for himself.
But Mama, Mr Collins, even concern for her ailing Papa possessed only minor bits of her attention. Again and again, she returned to the fantastic idea that somehow Mr Darcy had married her. Somehow,shehad married Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth had no doubt that the very notion of matrimonywas against his wishes and will. Also, she was certain Mr Darcy had not taken advantage of the situation to do it. That entire idea made no sense whatsoever. If he did not precisely hate her, he certainly was no admirer—and with his wealth, excellent birth, and outward beauty, he could obviously have his pick of brides more attractive and affluent.
She had not liked him, it was true—had been well on her way, in fact, to despising him for his mistreatment of her friend, Mr Wickham. But the recollection of this mistreatment, in fact, was what led her to the deepest mystery of all.
How could he disregard the friend of his youth so callously, while showing such extraordinary concern for me?At the ball, he had refused to defend himself from her accusations—conveyed when she ought to have been dancing, not pressing him for explanation—regarding Mr Wickham.On the other hand, why should he have? What am I to him, that I should deserve to hear any vindication of his motives or actions? I am an insect beneath his shoe.
An insect he had kissed in a wild, passionate manner, and inexplicably married while she was out of her senses, in order to protect her.
Her head ached. Nothing made sense, no matter how she wrestled with her fractured memories. Finally, she fell into a deep, if troubled sleep.
CHAPTER 7
Despite the beauty of the chilly November afternoon, George Wickham was restless. The other officers, even Denny, were jealous of him, leaving him to his own devices more and more often. Chafing at the inaction and lack of opportunities in Meryton and its surrounds, he found few marks available for a man of his talents—and now that Darcy was in the vicinity, he must keep his head lower than ever. The few unsatisfying flirtations he had managed had done nothing to satiate his appetites, and there were far more concerned mamas and papas lurking round every corner than available females willing to risk reputation for a bit of sport.
Speaking of which, one of the noisiest of those mothers was currently marching up the street, looking as militant as any soldier in the regiment. Had Napoleon himself dared pop up before her, she would have obliterated him with one strike of her swinging reticule.
“Mrs Bennet,” he called in his most charming voice. “How lovely to see you on a fine November’s day. Meryton is quite dull today, as everyone exhausted themselves last evening. Do not tell me thatyoufailed to dance until dawn? If only I had been able to attend, I should have made certain you were never lacking a partner.”
Her expression lost a degree of chill, as he had known it would.
“If only youhadbeen there!” Mrs Bennet cried. “You might have put that awful Mr Darcy in his place! There is no one to stop him now!”
At that moment, a breathless, heavyset young man caught up to her—Mr Collins, Wickham remembered. A vicar now, but the future heir of Longbourn. Envy twisted in his malevolent soul.
“Dear, dear! Stop Darcy from doing what, good madam?” Wickham asked.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Collins beat her to it.
“From stealing my bride,” he said sourly. “Mr Darcy has eloped with the faithless, fickle Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Wickham’s brows rose as high as they could go.
Mrs Bennet gave Collins a quelling stare. “We are on our way to my brother Philips,” she explained. “He must lend us his carriage. We shall follow the couple and ensure that the nuptials are performed. My Lizzy is entirely blameless in this matter, and if Mr Darcy believes he can make away with my daughter withoutrepercussion, I will give him something else to think about!”
Wickham nearly burst into laughter—as if this foolish pair could possibly exertanyinfluence over Darcy! The man could not be bought nor bullied into doing anything he did not wish.I should know.
Theremustbe more to this supposed ‘elopement’ than these two were admitting. Darcy would never approve of an elopement of any kind, not for any reason—Wickham also knewthatall too well.
For that matter, neither could he envision Miss Elizabeth Bennet indulging in any kind of improper behaviour.If she were the sort, I would certainly have already indulged with her!
Nevertheless, Darcy’s honour often could be used against him, as had been proved in times past. Miss Elizabeth and Darcy were caught up insomething, and Darcy was unlikely to want her hurt. Oh, they could never force him to a marriage he did not wish—no one could, else he would already be wed to the de Bourgh chit.
No, whatever had happened between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, Darcy would expect to use his wealth and influence to remove all stain. Wickham did not pretend that Darcy could not succeed. However, the more witnesses there were to this supposed infraction of society’s rules, the costlier it would be. If Mrs Bennet and Collins were the only ones who knew of it, Darcy could escape practically unscathed. If, however, someone whom Darcy couldnottrust to keep his mouth shut—at least, not withoutsignificant incentive—were to witness him in a potentially scandalous situation, why, Wickham could almost guarantee he would pay. And pay. And pay.
“I will escort you,” he offered handsomely. “I know just how to find him in town. I was practically raised with him, you know.”
It was dark when Elizabeth wakened, still a trifle disoriented, but feeling much more herself. The same servant, again, was dozing in the chair, and again wakened instantly when she—carefully this time—sat up.
“You’re awake!”
“Good evening, Molly,” she said. “You have had a very dull day of it, I am afraid.”
“It’s happy I am to have a dull one, every now and again,” the girl said kindly. “And your husband’s been paying me well to have it. Is ye hungry?”
