Chapter 13 If Mr. Darcy Dared

“I should see to Mama. She is no doubt looking for me,” Elizabeth started as her father and Uncle Phillips were quietly discussing the papers.

Without looking up, her father spoke. “You will not take flight, now, Lizzy. Have a seat; there is the matter of explaining how your position so radically changed in the passing of mere hours.”

“That was before I knew the truth of two important matters. One issue you are aware of,” Elizabeth pointed at her index finger to enumerate, “and the second I had yet to bring to your attention.” She finished hastily and looked out the window as she swallowed. Her Uncle Phillips’ carriage was being driven around the drive towards the back, signaling the man planned to stay for dinner. Elizabeth wondered briefly if her aunt had come with him, but the paper-thin walls answered that query as soon as she heard the familiar cackling of two sisters sharing good news: her mother and her Aunt Phillips.

Feeling exposed to the ridicule of her family from all sides, Elizabeth wished she could turn around and grasp Fitzwilliam’s hand. The interview with her father had not gone as she had planned. First, Mr. Bennet had greatly enjoyed tormenting her suitor for being so late for his call. And when neither Elizabeth nor Mr. Darcy could give him a compelling reason for his tardiness, Mr. Bennet saw no reason to relent.

“And what are these issues that you mention? Please apprise me of the one that I already know and acquaint me with the mysterious obstacle at your leisure.” Mr. Bennet pointed to the chair next to his desk that Elizabeth so commonly sat in when she was working with her father on the sums for the estate or translating a particularly tricky passage of Greek or Latin.

Feeling at home in her father’s study, Elizabeth marched forward and flounced into the chair, only realizing, after she had taken a seat, the unfortunate setting of the room. Now she sat seemingly at her father’s right hand, with Uncle Phillips flanking his left side, while poor Mr. Darcy stood under interrogation! As Elizabeth realized her error, she leaned forward as if to leave the chair, but her father’s hand stilled her movements. Her heart pained at the sight of poor Mr. Darcy standing awkwardly to answer for all of this.

“Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet asked.

Suddenly feeling the part of her mother’s daughter, unexplained nervousness attacked Elizabeth’s senses, and she stammered to get the words out. She knew she must speak the truth to her father, but her heart did not wish to say a single mean word against Mr. Darcy. So she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“The first issue is that of Mr. Wickham, the man you and Uncle Phillips teased me about in the carriage on our way to Netherfield—”

Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair and scoffed. “We hardly teased you. Do not place blame on others for your intrigues, my dear.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flew open, and her head swiveled sharply in the direction of her father. How could she not have seen it before? All the times she had joined him in being quick to make sport of another and here she was not set apart from any of them. This was her future life, and her father acted as though it were an opportunity to find folly.

“Though you charged me with interrogating Mr. Darcy while we danced, I’m afraid that I rather haphazardly inquired if he was engaged to his cousin. He misunderstood, believing that I was saying I was soon to be engaged to my cousin, which we all know led to the evening’s public display.” Elizabeth frowned, but her eyebrows lifted to offer a silent apology to Mr. Darcy. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And Mr. Darcy was correct, though I did not know that my mother had made arrangements with Mr. Collins behind even your back, Father.” Elizabeth felt a slight exhilaration to throw a barb at her father’s weaknesses. After all, she had learned at his knee the best ways to poke holes in someone’s peacockish ways.

“And so the mysterious issue is that of the cousin? And what say you, Mr. Darcy? Are you promised to this cousin of yours in Kent?” Mr. Bennet slipped into a halfhearted role of a concerned parent.

“No, sir.”

Elizabeth bit the corner of her lower lip as she did not wish to discuss more about Mr. Wickham. But her father was too clever for such a distraction. Feeling a bit of exasperation himself, Mr. Bennet tersely instructed Elizabeth to continue.

“Yes, the matter of Mr. Wickham. You see he told me a very pretty story of how Mr. Darcy had denied him his inheritance. Under closer inspection, I realize Mr. Wickham’s story does not hold veracity by our short acquaintance. I believe it uncommonly poor taste for someone to speak ill about an acquaintance on such a first meeting. Would you not agree, Papa?” Elizabeth still attempted to distract her father with no gain.

“And what have you to say for this, Mr. Darcy? You are not promised to this cousin in Kent, but how do you explain that this man has gone to homes in this neighborhood to accuse you of the aforementioned crime?” Mr. Bennet threaded his fingers into a clasp upon his desk drumming his thumbs back and forth as he waited for Mr. Darcy’s reply.

“On that accusation, I stand responsible. When you are the landowner of a great estate, it is your duty to make decisions for the best welfare of all who count upon you for their livelihood. George Wickham is not fit to run a church, and I saw no reason to burden my dying father with what I knew. There is a side to Mr. Wickham that my father never saw, and I would not be the son to break his heart,” Mr. Darcy stated.

Elizabeth sat straighter in her chair as her hope increased she would not have to reveal what Mr. Darcy had told her about Mr. Wickham being fast with young ladies. Her father might be very cavalier in his discipline, but even for him, there were boundaries he expected his daughters not to cross.

“It seems to be a harsh sentence for the careless mistakes of a young man. I believe none of us were fit for the church when we were young lads in school,” Mr. Bennet countered.

Mr. Darcy shook his head. “There is more that I am not free to share. For Mr. Wickham is not a man with any scruples where it comes to young women.”

“And do you have any proof of these misdeeds?” Uncle Phillips asked.

Mr. Darcy blanched. “None that I am willing to provide. The terms of my father’s will were clear, and I operated in consultation with my solicitor. I can provide you evidence that he was given a lump sum of the value of the living, the remains of such funds I am unable to account.”

Uncle Phillips and Mr. Bennet exchanged a look, and Elizabeth began to feel concerned.