Mary Simonsen - A Wife for Mr Darcy

If Lizzy had not kicked Kitty under the table, she would have continued. Mr. Collins could be exasperating, but he was their cousin, and one who held their future in his hands.

Kitty’s suggestion thwarted Lizzy’s plan to withdraw immediately after dinner, and she was forced to listen to Lady Catherine’s vicar praise everything his patroness said or did. It wasn’t until Mrs. Bennet pointed out that the groom-to-be had a very busy day in front of him that he retired.

As soon as Mr. Collins was out of the room, Mrs. Bennet collapsed into her chair. Fortunately, Aunt Gardiner offered to see her sister-in-law to bed. Lizzy gave her a look of such gratitude, and her aunt responded with a knowing smile.

“Lizzy, do you think Mr. Darcy’s efforts will succeed?” Jane asked as the sisters burrowed into their bed and snuggled together for warmth.

“I do not know, but I am hopeful because Mr. Wickham has no idea that anyone is aware of his plans. But enough about Lydia. Charlotte is to be married in the morning and you in two weeks’ time, but everyone is talking about Lydia.”

“Charlotte’s wedding is to be a simple affair with only family and close friends invited to the wedding breakfast. Mr. Collins said that Lady Catherine is insisting that a habit of economy be established from the very start, and I think it is what Charlotte prefers. You know she does not like being the center of attention.”

“True enough. So, tell me, how do things go with Mr. Bingley?”

Even in the dimly lit room, Lizzy could see her sister’s smile. “I think about Charles all day long, and I want to be with him all the time. I will be very happy when our wedding day has come. He is only gone to London for a few days, but I miss him terribly.”

“Jane, has Charles ever kissed you?”

“Yes, but ever so briefly, because Mary and Kitty or Mama are always about, and it is the same at Netherfield. Although the Crenshaw twins have been sent to boarding school in Scotland, their mother and the other children are always about. Charles does write very nice love letters intimating that he wishes we had more time together alone, but that is it. Why are you asking? Have you been kissed?”

“Yes, I have. Truthfully, I do not know what I was expecting a kiss to feel like, but it was better than anything I could have ever imagined. When Mr. Darcy swept me up in his arms, I felt a sensation that went throughout my body, and I have to admit that it was most pleasant.”

“Oh, Lizzy, I am so happy to hear that you found it to be pleasant. I have to admit I am a little nervous about my wedding night. It is so strange to me that something that is absolutely forbidden to me on Friday will be required of me on Saturday. And it is not as if I do not know what is going to happen. After all, we do live on a farm. I just do not know how it all comes about and what is required of me.”

“I do not think all that much will be required of you, Jane. When Mr. Darcy kissed me, he held me so closely that I felt something hard against me that had not been there a minute before.”

“What was it?”

“A bedpost.” And the two sisters exploded into laughter. “Other than kissing him, I did nothing. It seems to be a miracle of Nature, and one that comes in a goodly size.”

“Lizzy, I cannot believe you are saying these things, but I am glad you are. All I know is that when Charles kisses me, it is not enough. I want more.”

“Well, no need to worry, Jane, because I am quite sure Mr. Bingley will be happy to oblige.”

Although Mercer had done everything he could to expedite the journey, there was no avoiding the stops necessary to change the horses. The carriage had to be checked to make sure a wheel wasn’t loose or an axle bent, calls of Nature answered, and simple meals eaten as well. But when they arrived in Brighton shortly after 10:00 in the morning, nine hours behind Gregg, his efforts were rewarded. As soon as Darcy entered the colonel’s residence, he was immediately reassured by Colonel Forster that Wickham’s plans had been thwarted, and after receiving such information, Darcy asked Mercer to see to the drivers and to get some rest.

“My aide will assist you in that,” and the colonel ordered Lieutenant Dickinson to take the men to the kitchen for a large bowl of Mrs. Grant’s soup and the meat pies she had prepared for them. “I have ordered supper for you as well, but I am sure you are eager to have a report on Miss Lydia and Wickham.”

As soon as the colonel had finished reading the letter from Darcy, a search for Wickham had been undertaken, and he was found within the hour at a sporting house. The next morning, Wickham had been interrogated by the colonel, but denied any plans to leave Brighton with Lydia, insisting that all he had done was to renew an acquaintance that he had formed while encamped near Meryton. When confronted with details of assignations provided by Lydia and documented in her diary, Wickham admitted he had had some harmless fun with the girl. However, he continued to insist his purpose had never been the seduction of one so young and concluded by saying that he had never intended to marry Lydia Bennet.

At that point, the colonel had stood up and said, “That is the first statement you have made that I actually believe.” After informing him that he was confined to quarters indefinitely, Colonel Forster left.

“The long and the short of it, Mr. Darcy, is that your letter prevented Wickham from carrying out his plans. When Miss Lydia came down to breakfast this morning, her room was searched, and an overnight bag was found. When asked for an explanation, she revealed all. She was actually quite proud that she had been able to secure the affections of such an admirable fellow. Even after we told her unequivocally that he had said it was never his intention to marry her, she just laughed, explaining that was what he had to say in order to protect his position in the regiment. To my utter astonishment, she actually thinks our discovery of her plans merely delays the marriage, and the nuptials will take place quickly ‘now that everything is out in the open.’”

From the room above, a loud cry could be heard, and Darcy looked to the colonel for an explanation. “That is our young lady grieving for her lover. That caterwauling has been going on all morning. ‘My dear Wickham,’ she cries, ‘when will you come for me?’ She sobs and moans for about fifteen minutes and then takes a rest before starting up again. My wife attempted to console her, but because she is with child, her nerves were fraying. So she has departed and our housemaid, the poor girl, is sitting in the room with Miss Lydia.”

“Thank you, Colonel, for your quick response. You have saved that girl from certain ruin,” Darcy said, standing up. “I believe her father is on the road to Brighton as we speak, but since I have no way of knowing when he will arrive, I intend to talk to Miss Lydia after I have eaten and have had the use of a wash basin. The young lady needs to know Wickham’s history, and although I doubt it will do much good, she will hear it.”

Lydia looked startled when the maid opened the door to reveal Mr. Darcy. She had heard the colonel talking to someone, but when she did not recognize the voice, she assumed it was one of the soldiers who had been running back and forth to headquarters. The colonel had told her he was not budging from the house until he had safely delivered her to her father. He had then droned on about “a betrayal of trust and violating the rules of hospitality,” and other such drivel. Didn’t the old goat remember what it was like to be in love, especially since he had married a woman half his age?

Grabbing a wooden chair from the hallway, Darcy brought it into the room and sat opposite to Lydia, and he thought what a little shit she was. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse in her demeanor. Instead, she was trying to defiantly stare him down, and he wanted to laugh—he of the furrowed brow, steel gray eyes, and look of thunder yielded to no one—except Elizabeth.

“Let us get right to business, Miss Lydia. First, if you intend to reproduce the hysterical crying I heard when I first entered this house, your confinement will continue, and I am sure that at this point it is getting rather close in here.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Lydia said, outraged. “You are not my father, and you are not my guardian. I know about these things because my uncle is a solicitor.”

“Secondly, I see you have not eaten your breakfast,” he said, looking at the untouched tray on the side table. “There are three hungry men in the kitchen who have been traveling for more than a day because of your thoughtless actions, and they will be glad to have the extra rations. Of course, that means you will go without any nourishment until breakfast.”

“Mr. Wickham told me how arrogant you were and how you denied him his proper inheritance,” Lydia said, practically spitting out the words, “and he warned me that everything that comes out of your mouth when talking about him are lies.”

“Lies. That is a good place to start because, Miss Lydia, you have been used most grievously. You have your sisters to thank for your rescue. When Jane read of Wickham’s excessive attention to you, she wrote to Elizabeth at Pemberley. Unfortunately for Wickham, but fortunately for you, I knew the truth about his meanness of character.”

Lydia turned her back to him and went to the window.

“And I have the documents to prove it, and since you have a solicitor in the family, he may wish to examine the receipt for three thousand pounds paid to Wickham by me in lieu of a living or another receipt for one thousand pounds as settlement of my father’s will. That is a lot of money, Miss Lydia. Where is it?”

Lydia turned to face him, and he could see by the look on her face that he had succeeded in planting seeds of doubt. But a defiant Lydia insisted that she would have married him anyway.

“You see, Miss Lydia, the problem is, he would never have married you. You do not solve his problems. He is knee deep in debt, and if the colonel cannot bring charges against him, he will turn him over to the debtors’ courts. Since he has no way of coming up with the many hundreds of pounds he owes, probably just here in Brighton alone, he will be sent to debtors’ prison. Wives are allowed to join their husbands if they can pay for their board, but I would not recommend it. Marshalsea Prison is right on the Thames, and it gets very cold there, and the dampness creeps right into your bones.”