A book, a bottle, and an unwritten letter.
He grit his teeth, took the bottle, and poured it out into the dirt.
***
“I have never been so embarrassed!”
Darcy pressed his hand to his forehead and groaned. The voice was deliberately high-pitched, and the speaker was standing on the landing outside his room to make her protestations. He was obviously meant to overhear.
Charles had made some reply, but his voice was too soft to make it through the heavy wooden door. Caroline Bingley had no such difficulty.
“Farmers! Farmers, dragging him home like a… like a child! Clomping through the front door in their muddy boots, staring around with their jaws hanging open… I can stillsmellthem, Charles!”
There was another reply, this time a little louder. Then a scoff.
“Yes, he is yourfriend.And when is the last time he did anything for you? While you feed him, and look away when he drinks… he takes and takes, and what do you get? The pleasure of his illustrious company?”
“He is unwell, Caroline.” Now, Bingley was sharp and his voice was clear, “You don’t know…”
“You’re right! Idon’tknow! You have some great secret that somehow makes all thisacceptable!It must be an astounding story, for you to allow such… incivility!”
Don’t tell her.Darcy thought with sudden fear,Bingley, hold your ground!
The thought of Georgiana’s sickness becoming common knowledge was truly awful. He could already see the cloying pity on Caroline’s face when she cooed over her. The false empathy, and then the gossip. Oh, the gossip!
What would they say? What excuses could be made for a woman who had tried to poison herself? They would enjoy spreading that story around, he knew for a fact. And oncethatstory was out, the next question they would ask would be:why?
Naturally, Wickham did not know. Naturally, he would find out. And, naturally, he would try to use it to his advantage.
Darcy sat upright in bed and cradled his head in his hands. He was used to the hangover, but today it felt worse, because he was determined to let it continue. He would not have one of the alcoholic restoratives that calmed the thundering throbbing. Today, Darcy told himself, he would not touch a drop.
Water, though. Water was a good idea! He grabbed the jug beside his bed and started drinking, not bothering with a glass.Beyond the door, he heard another angry exclamation from Miss Bingley, and then quick footsteps snapping down the stairs. It seemed that the secret was safe, for now.
Chapter 4
It was a surprise to every local family that, a year after they moved in, the reclusive occupants of Netherfield Park finally accepted an invitation to the Meryton Ball. With such an unprecedented appearance the assembly rooms were filled early. Nobody wanted to lose their chance to see the mysterious strangers.
When Netherfield Park was first let, rumours had abounded about the newcomers’ wealth, good looks and charm. There were stories about beautiful ladies and eligible gentlemen. As time passed, the county found out the truth. They were rich, yes, but rather unsuitable. They were reclusive because of some personal matter, and the stories of Mr. Darcy’s frequent drunkenness were well known.
So it was that the locals expected to see one foolish man (easily misled), one married man (a gambler) and one wretched creature (a sot). They were all surprised, then, when the gentlemen arrived. The married one had a paunch, it was true, but the other two looked as fine and handsome as anyone could wish. Neither of them had any signs of liquor on them. Both were neat and upright, and neither of them had trembling hands. The only indication that either of them were slaves to thebottle lay in the way they courteously waved away the wine that they were offered.
Elizabeth Bennet blushed when the men were announced and made her way to the back of the room. She did not wish to be noticed. Almost seven months had passed since her chance meeting with Mr. Darcy, and she had no desire to remind him of it. It had mortified her to see a gentleman in such a state, and she could only imagine how embarrassed he had been, when sobriety returned. She had not even sent well-wishes to him on a card, although that would have been theproperthing to do after finding one’s neighbour in distress. Instead, she had returned home as if nothing had happened and spoken not a word of it to any member of her family.
Except Jane. Dear Jane, who listened with a thoughtful frown and then kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. Embarrassment, she said, was natural… but Lizzie should let pride follow it. Pride, yes, for the care she had taken and her quick decision to fetch help. If not for her, Mr. Darcy could have come to a far worse end.
Elizabeth smiled and felt a little comforted- but still did not reveal herself to the people at Netherfield Park. It seemed better to forget the whole thing.
Which was why she found herself hiding behind a potted plant at the Meryton Ball. Her mother would have been ashamed, but recently her mother’s good opinion was rarely found.
Mrs. Bennet saved most of her energy for Jane, who had so far failed to make the good match that everyone had expected. The older woman’s hopes had risen when Netherfield Park was let, but it was for nought. There were gentlemen, yes, but they were not in want of wives. When that was made clear, Mrs. Bennet despaired. What other local prospects were there, that deserved precious Jane? Miss Bennet was therefore sent to London fora season, at great expense, where she was much admired but received no offers.
Mrs. Bennet wrung her hands and then made her excuses. It was baffling, but not an uncommon story. Ladies sometimes spent their first season being circled - yes, as if by hyenas! Shy, strange or aloof men who took their time. Jane was succulent prey, but nobody had yet dared to take a bite.
Such a motherly thought! At least she did not smile when she said it. Her face, long since past its sweet youth, was fixed in a scowl. Mr. Bennet had made it clear that another London season was out of the question, and that Jane must set her sights to less exotic animals. Her daughters looked at Mrs. Bennet’s fury. What could they say? How could they prevail against such a ruthless love?
Jane privately confided to Elizabeth that it was neither her bearing nor her behaviour that had scared men away. She was a local beauty, but London was filled with the most beautiful women in the country. If she could compete with them, she certainly could not compete with their dowries or their families. Such comparisons had been disheartening, and she had lost confidence in herself.
Then, their mother had made it far worse. Her delight in being able to enjoy the season was loud and uncouth, and Jane knew that she was a figure of ridicule. Mrs. Bennet was oblivious, but Jane could hear the laughter and the snide comments. Her smiles lost their glow, and her eyes their lustre. By the time she came home to Meryton, she was much altered.
