Preview #2 of My Latest WIP, by Jack Caldwell

Greetings everyone. Jack Caldwell here.

I’m still busy running Granddaddy Day Care for my baby granddaughter—Princess Sugar Pie—but I have hammered out Chapter 2. Again, it’s rough. Enjoy.

Link to Chapter 1 is HERE.

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THE COURTSHIP OF ELIZABETH DARCY

 

Chapter 2

ELIZABETH DASHED THE TEARS from her eyes. Crying would do her no good—she had to think! Mr. Wickham so wicked and Mr. Darcy so heroic! How could it be? It was something out of a three-volume novel! How would she settle this in her mind?

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

As soon as Mr. Darcy’s horse reached the road, they came across a carriage headed towards Meryton. This was bad enough. To Elizabeth’s horror it was the Gouldings of Haye-Park!

“Hello!” cried Mr. William Goulding. “Good day, Mr. Darcy!” In the carriage were his wife and two daughters. Elizabeth tried to shrink inside Mr. Darcy’s coat. Mrs. Goulding was as big a gossip as her Aunt Phillips.

Mrs. Goulding gasped. “Why, Elizabeth Bennet! What are you doing there?”

Elizabeth was going to die of embarrassment.

“Miss Bennet met with misfortune and I am returning her to Longbourn,” Mr. Darcy said sharply. “Pray excuse us.” He rode on, but Elizabeth could hear the Goulding girls laughing.

“Oh, no, no, no…” she murmured.

“Miss Elizabeth?”

“Now look what you have done!” she cried angrily. “By tonight everyone in Meryton will know we rode together on your horse! I am utterly compromised!”

“Madam, I do not think—”

“Exactly right—you did not think!” She struck his chest.

“Pray calm yourself! I must control my horse.”

Elizabeth did as he bade and began weeping again. She was ruined, utterly ruined! What Mr. Wickham did was bad enough, but now Mr. Darcy had revealed her shame to the world. What was she to do?

They rode on for a few moments. “I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said gently. “In my haste to help you, I fear I have placed you in an untenable position. This was not my intention, I assure you.”

Elizabeth only nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“I am certain once all is explained—” He paused. “No.”

She finally looked up. Mr. Darcy’s face was drawn and grim. “What are you mean, sir?”

Mr. Darcy spoke as much to himself as to her. “We are the only witnesses to what happened. Wickham is a master of lies. Would we be believed?”

Dread almost choked her. “No. He is very popular in Meryton, while you are…” She could not finish.

She did not need to. Darcy’s frown grew. “I see. I could buy up his debts—force his silence.”

“You believe he has debts?”

Darcy grimaced. “Wickham always has debts.”

“How do you know? He arrived in town a very short time ago.”

“I grew up with him, as I believe he has told you,” Darcy said levelly. “For years my family has covered his debts, both in Derbyshire and elsewhere. A leopard does not change his spots.”

This did not make sense. Why would a proud and cold gentleman help the man he hated? “Why have you paid his debts?”

Darcy bowed his head. “At Pemberley, I could not bear to have the Darcy name tarnished by his behavior. He used his connection to us—as my father’s godson—to secure credit. Too many merchants would be in distress. That would not do. At university, my father continued to come to his aid. He always felt sorry for Wickham.” He paused. “In other places it was…necessary to make whole what he owed.”

Elizabeth knew there was a story there, but could not ask about it.

“If I threatened Wickham with debtor’s prison, his tongue would be stilled.”

Elizabeth’s joy at his plan was short-lived. “But what of the Gouldings?”

“Could not your father appeal to them?”

“I fear we are already too late. Mrs. Goulding lives for gossip. And in any case, she currently has no love for my family.” Elizabeth closed her eyes in shame. “Mrs. Goulding and my mother have recently had a falling out. My mother insulted Mrs. Goulding’s daughters, bragging Jane would be mistress of Netherfield and not the ‘gangly Goulding girls.’ Mrs. Goulding will not pass up an opportunity for revenge.”

“This is grave indeed.”

Darcy said no more, leaving Elizabeth to her despair. Her family was ruined. There would be no marriage between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Her sisters would have to seek employment or remain at home, dreading their father’s passing and Mr. Collins’ ascendency. Mr. Collins would not be kind to them, not after her refusal of his proposal. She wept until they reached the outskirts of Longbourn.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy gently said, “I believe I must speak to your father—”

“Why?” was her automatic response, and then she caught his meaning. “Mr. Darcy, I do not think that is necessary!”

He shook his head. “If there is gossip due to my actions, there is no choice. I am a gentleman and know my duty.”

She knew he referred to a marriage of convenience, something she dreaded above all else. “Sir, I truly think that will not be required. I would not force you to do something against your best interests.”

He clearly did not believe her. “The fault is mine and I shall tell your father I am prepared to repair any damage to your reputation, if matters come to that. Miss Elizabeth,” he said to interrupt her objection, “do not fear for me. We are friends—we will find our way.”

Elizabeth was astonished. This was the second time he referred to her as a friend! She bit back her protest. She had been so wrong about Mr. Wickham. Could she still trust her judgement?

She then noticed they were moving towards the front door. “No, Mr. Darcy! I cannot be seen in this state on your horse! I must go the rest of the way alone.”

“But you are cold and wet! I cannot allow—”

Elizabeth’s answer was to slip off the saddle, fortunately landing on her feet.

“Miss Elizabeth!” Darcy began to dismount.

Elizabeth forestalled him. “I am well, sir. Here is your coat back.” Again she stopped his protest. “I will quickly step around the back way; Mrs. Hill will help me. Please sir, this is for the best.”

“Very well—I see you are decided,” he snapped. “I shall bring my horse to the stable, and then go around to the front door. Will that suit you?”

It did not, but it was the best she could expect. Mr. Darcy was so stubborn! “Give me a few moments.” With that she quickly walked the rest of the way to Longbourn.

~~~

“Miss Lizzy, what has happened?” cried Mrs. Hill.

Elizabeth, standing in the housekeeper’s tiny office, removed her ruined bonnet. “I was too close to a pond. Pray, is there a clean dress downstairs?”

“I’m afraid not, miss. Oh, you have mud everywhere.” The housekeeper gasped. “Miss Lizzy, this bruise was not caused by a pond!”

Elizabeth’s fingers toughed her tender cheek. “Please Hill, you must not tell my mother.”

The maid was incensed. “Who do this? You must tell your father!”

“I shall, but I must change first. Can you help me?”

Mrs. Hill nodded and leaned out the door. “Sarah,” she hissed, “dash upstairs and retrieve one of Miss Lizzy’s dresses. Step lightly and not a sound, mind!” She then back to Elizabeth. “I’ll get some warm water for your face and hands. But you will need a bath for your hair.”

“Warm water sounds delightful—no, wait! Mr. Darcy will be at the front door any minute. Please let him in without alerting my mother!”

Mrs. Hill eyed Elizabeth suspiciously. “Mr. Darcy has something to do with this?”

“Mr. Darcy helped me,” she admitted, “and is here to speak to my father about what happed. But if my mother sees him here so early—”

The long-time housekeeper nodded knowingly. “Say no more, Miss Lizzy. A mouse won’t hear him, I promise. I’ll see to him, and I’ll be back to help you.”

~~~

Darcy raised his hand to the knocker when the front door opened. “Mr. Darcy,” the housekeeper hissed, “I saw you walking up from the stable. Come inside quickly, sir, if you please.”

He did so and Mrs. Hill took his hat, gloves, and overcoat. “Dearie me, your poor coat! It’s soaked and dirty.” Shrewd eyes met his. “You weren’t wearing this, I’ll wager.”

Darcy’s armor of indifference descended over his expression. It was beneath him to answer such a personal question from another man’s servant. However, Mrs. Hill only nodded.

“Miss Lizzy told me you helped her. I’ll just bring this in the back and we’ll do what we can with it. You’re here to see Mr. Bennet?”

Darcy was nonplussed at Mrs. Hill’s impertinence. “I am. Is he available?”

“He will be,” she vowed. “Right this way, sir.”

As the pair walked down the short hall, Darcy reflected that Mr. Bennet had lost control over not only his wife and youngest daughters, but his servants as well. Will he believe what we tell him, and more importantly, will he act? Darcy had no answers.

Mrs. Hill knocked on a door, and a gruff voice bid her enter. “Mr. Darcy to see you, sir,” she said crisply before turning aside.

Darcy found himself in a small, crowded room, the walls covered by bookshelves overflowing with volumes. Two wing-back upholstered chairs framed the only window, a small table supporting a chessboard and a bottle of brandy between them. A small coal-grate stood in a corner.

Mr. Bennet sat behind a desk strewn with papers and books. Clearly astonished at his visitor, a book dangled perilously in his fingers.

Darcy bowed. “Mr. Bennet, I hope I find you well.”

The bewildered Master of Longbourn finally rose to his feet. “I am very well, sir. May I ask what brings you to my bookroom so early in the morning?”

Darcy noted that Mr. Bennet had not bade him to sit or offered anything from the coffee service that sat precariously on a pile of papers. Feeling the slight, he raised his chin, put his hands behind his back, and began directly.

“I come on important business regarding your daughter Miss Elizabeth.”

“What?” Mr. Bennet’s book finally slipped from his fingers, landing on the floor with a thud. “Has something happened to Lizzy?”

“She is well, sir, and in your house as we speak. She will join us directly. But I must tell you what has befallen her.” He then recited how he came upon the assault on her as he rode along the Meryton Road. “I chose to aid Miss Elizabeth rather than deal with the miscreant. I pulled her from the pond and brought her back to Longbourn.”

By now, Mr. Bennet had fallen back into his chair. “Who did this? Who attacked my Lizzy?”

“It is not for me to say.”

“Tell me his name!” Bennet slammed a fist on his desk. The coffee service jangled.

“For that you must apply to your daughter. In any case, I will deal with him.”

“You? Why you?”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy, why you?” came Elizabeth’s voice from behind.

Darcy turned to see Mrs. Hill closing the door behind Miss Elizabeth. She was in a clean dress and her damp hair was repaired. But with her face free of mud, the damage Wickham wrought was horrifyingly apparent. Both gentlemen moved to her, but Darcy, being closer, arrived first.

“Good God,” he whispered in anguish and anger. He almost touched the bruise on her cheek, already turning purple, before catching himself and took her hands instead. “Miss Elizabeth, you must sit.” After a tiny bit of resistance, she allowed him to guide her to one of the wing-chairs. As soon as she sat, her father shouldered her rescuer away.

Mr. Bennet knelt before her. “Lizzy, who did this to you?”

She glanced at Darcy before murmuring, “Mr. Wickham.”

It was clearly not a name Mr. Bennet had considered. “Mr. Wickham? That charming man in the militia? I do not understand.”

“That is because you do not know what kind of man Wickham is,” growled Darcy.

The other two turned their attention to him. Mr. Bennet remained shocked into insensibility. Elizabeth, however, was coolly curious. “There is more to Mr. Wickham than what you said before.”

Darcy realized he would have to reveal more of his dealings with Wickham. “Yes, Miss Elizabeth. I was raised with Wickham; no one knows him better. I told you of his profligate ways. What I have not shared was his vicious propensities, his want of principle. Since leaving Pemberley, he has lived a life of idleness and dissipation.

“I know he had told you my father had left him a valuable living that I had denied him. Certainly he did not mention he had declared having no intention of taking orders and instead demanded immediate pecuniary advantage in lieu of the preferment. I was relieved—I knew he should not be a clergyman—and we agreed upon the sum of three thousand pounds, on top of the thousand left directly to him in my father’s will.”

“That is twice my income!” cried Bennet.

Elizabeth was unnaturally expressionless. “Mr. Wickham does not act like a man with four thousand pounds.”

Darcy frowned at Miss Elizabeth’s reaction, wondering if she disbelieved him. “He does not because he no longer has four thousand pounds. He claimed an interest in studying the law, but he must have found that unprofitable. Three years later when the living became vacant, I heard again from my former friend. He was now absolutely resolved on being ordained if I would present him the living in question. Apparently his circumstances were exceedingly dire. I, of course, refused him. Doubtless he was as violent in his abuse of me to others as was his reproaches to myself.”

Elizabeth bowed her head while her father responded. “Mr. Wickham has committed a great slander against your character, sir, and it disconcerting to learn he managed to lose four thousand pounds in less than three years! He is a gamester, I take it.”

Darcy nodded. “Wickham has a greater belief of his skill at cards than the results would attest. His debts of honor have been large and numerous.”

“I cannot doubt it. But what in his character would lead him to harm my daughter?”

Darcy took a breath. He would have to be careful here. “There is a young lady, a gentlewoman of some fortune, whose family is known to me. About a year ago, she was convinced by her paid companion to leave school and form an establishment in Town. At the time she was but fifteen and not out. The lady’s family had no misgivings—the companion had excellent references—and raised no objection to a sojourn to the seashore.

“In this, they were deceived. This woman, who had presented forged documents, was a confederate of Wickham’s, and they concocted a scheme to acquire the young lady’s dowry. Wickham soon appeared and, by the companion’s connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself that the young lady was persuaded to believe herself in love and consent to an elopement.

“By great providence, a relation of the young lady visited the day before the intended elopement, the lady confessed all, and was saved from a most miserable existence. Wickham immediately fled, the companion was dismissed, and the lady returned to her family’s estate.”

Bennet frowned. “And it is certain Wickham was indifferent to this girl?”

“As I said, she was but a child of fifteen, but possessed a dowry of thirty thousand pounds.” Darcy was pleased he kept his tone neutral.

Elizabeth kept her head down. “She was Lydia’s age, Papa.” She finally looked at Darcy. “Does this young lady still suffer?”

Her pointed stare unnerved Darcy. Had she guessed the truth? “I have been told she is far quieter and shyer than before, and more easily frightened, but shows no other ill effects. Her family hopes that with time she will again become the lively and sweet girl so loved by her friends.”

Bennet was shaken. “The man is an utter blackguard! But why would he molest my Lizzy? She has nothing.”

Darcy resisted laughing at the man’s stupid statement. Had he no eyes? Men had laid down their lives for ladies less charming than Elizabeth Bennet! “I would not agree, Mr. Bennet.” At that, a red-faced Elizabeth turned away. “Other than the obvious inducement, I believe some of the blame must fall to me.”

This time both father and daughter gasped. “You?”

Knowing there was but one proper outcome for this conversation, Darcy decided to be open. “Wickham knows me almost as well as I know him. He could easily recognize where my…interests lie.”

Elizabeth just blinked while her father’s head swiveled between her and Darcy. “Are you trying to say…?”

“I am certain I am not the only gentleman to admire your daughter. As for Wickham, revenge would be a strong motivation.”

“Hurting me would…hurt you?” Elizabeth’s voice quivered.

Darcy was taken aback at her reaction. Wickham could read him—certainly so could Miss Elizabeth. “Naturally.”

Elizabeth did not respond; she just stared at him.

As for Mr. Bennet, his reaction was quite different. “Indeed? Hah!” He began to laugh. “Mr. Darcy in love with my Lizzy! What a joke!”

“Papa!” Elizabeth cried.

“Do not pretend to be offended, my dear girl! I know well your pointed dislike of the man. And all this time we thought him indifferent to you as well!” He rubbed the tears of mirth in his eyes. “Well, Mr. Darcy, I suppose my girl is handsome enough to tempt you now!”

With that, a pale Elizabeth fled the room.

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Well, things have gone from bad to worse. Is anyone surprised at Mr. Bennet’s reaction? I’m not, but what about you? What will happen next?

Until next time, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…