But I knew. Before Fitzwilliam ever pulled me aside later, before I heard the pain exploding in his voice for his sister, before I had a chance to beg forgiveness for all but forcing him to bring her that night...
I knew.
It was not hard to figure out. He was not a man to easily brush off the offenses of others against him, but he was also not one to allow his resentment to form easily. Something hideous had to have happened between them, and the pieces of other conversations began to click into place.
I will not write down the fearful argument we had that evening in the library after everyone else had taken themselves to bed. He was not so unreasonable as to blame me for the lieutenant’s presence in the neighborhood, but he did lay at my feet the fact that I had interfered in his proper guardianship of a young, impressionable, and very fragile girl. A girl who had greater expectations in life than any “farmer’s daughter,” and could not afford to have her reputation tarnished by “village gossips.” Naturally, he meant my mother and her ilk.
I made him pay for those remarks, but the damage was done. For my arrogant overstep, and for my heated, often unwise retorts in reply to his insulting wrath, he nearly did not forgive me, and I almost swore him off.
Obviously, we did settle our differences, or I would not be writing this today, but it was not immediate. Rather, it was not immediately complete. We both apologized that very night, through tears (mine) and grinding teeth (his), but he struggled to reconcile himself to that apology for many days after. It was at least a week before he could smile again and almost that long before I could forget how severely he had spoken to me.
But never once did he make plans to return early to London, nor did I wish for him to go.
Georgiana’s courage took a terrible blow. I shall not put down why her trust was so shattered by seeing one earthworm masquerading as an officer in gentle company, but the reader may employ their imagination.
Caroline, unfortunately, found a foothold there, and she was most often with the girl, usually lauding her to the heavens, however insincerely, and finding new ways each day to discredit me. My credibility was further tainted by my own family’s intimacy with Lieutenant Wickham, and their persistence in inviting him to call. Therefore, my friendship with Georgianasuffered more than it ought to have. Fitzwilliam, however, did his part nobly.
I shall never forget the day he asked me to ride over to Longbourn with him. Charles came as well, of course, but poor dear Charles seemed oblivious to the grim set of Fitzwilliam’s jaw as we drove. I had begun to suspect by this time that he fancied Jane more than he had ever admired any other girl, so he probably only had thoughts of courtship on his mind.
Fitzwilliam disappeared during our call. I saw him when he quietly stepped out, met his eye just before he closed the door, and knew what he was about. Later, he confessed it all to me.
“I had a word with your father today.”
“I know.”
He paced, his chest tight against his buttons because he was holding his breath. He always does that when he has something important to say. He was gesturing thoughtfully with a brandy glass, then set it on a table and faced me. “You may consider him sufficiently cautioned as regards his daughters.”
I let go the breath I was holding, for I have the same habit. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me so swiftly. I can only caution. The governing of their behavior must come from him, and...”
“And my mother and sisters will not make it easy. I know. If there is one thing my father craves, it is ease in his old age.” I sighed and fingered the fringe of my sleeve because it made my cheeks hot to look at him. “Thank you for trying, anyway. Not that my father is one to gossip, but you exposed yourself for that. You did not have to.”
“I did.” He came round the room to face me and took my hand in his. “For you, I did. I protect my friends, Elizabeth.”
I laid my other hand on his cheek and smiled at him. There was nothing romantic in it, although it may sound as if I tried to seduce him. It was nothing of the kind. We said nothing moreof import to each other that night, but we did exchange an... understanding, if you will. One that has endured to this day.
Ten
When my bride suggestedon our twentieth anniversary that we should put down our memoirs of our life together, we agreed that we would each tell our own side of the tale, in our own words, with no consultation between us to align our recollections. I expected that our accounts would hardly differ and that we would each respect the other’s privacy until the project was completed.
I underestimated her yet again.
I was writing last night in my room (though she claims it is her room since she is always there) when my delicious Elizabeth pushed my pen away and slid into my lap, wearing nothing but a... well, not properly attired. She wrapped her arms around me and seduced me thoroughly, right there at my writing desk.
I am not complaining in the least. Lucky is the man whose bride of two decades can still ignite him as my Elizabeth does me. But a curious constant I have discovered is that when a man is so effectively distracted, single-minded, and oblivious to all else—one might even use the word helpless—a woman may not necessarily be so.
My suspicions were confirmed later when I returned from dressing and discovered that the pages of my journal had been flipped enough to smudge a bit of ink in one corner. That smudge was in the shape of a fingerprint, far too small to be mine.
Very well, she sneaked a peek at my words. She may have even arranged our tryst on purpose to take advantage of me. I trust she found nothing to disagree with, for she has said nothing to me of it. She does, however, wear a very smug look today, but I choose to attribute that to her enjoyment of my ministrations last evening.
Now, then, back to my tale. In my present mood, I believe I will recommence with our second kiss—also initiated by her.
The circumstances of it were not pleasant to recall, but if there is one thing I can count on with Elizabeth, it is that she can always turn a dark hour into a treasured memory. We had been at Netherfield just over a month when a man who had wronged and betrayed my family in indescribable ways joined the local militia, and therefore, was welcomed into the general society of the neighborhood. I will say little of him here, for he has but a small bearing on my story with Elizabeth, but there was one event worth recalling.
This man was not to be trusted anywhere young ladies were present, and Elizabeth, knowing something of his history, was concerned for her younger sisters. They possessed no discretion and had little guidance at home, so I paid a call on Mr. Bennet one afternoon to caution him.
Afterwards, I confirmed to her that the message had been relayed, and she expressed her appreciation for my efforts on her family’s behalf. As if I could have done otherwise! It was only natural and just that I ought to exert myself under such circumstances, but she was correct in understanding how unpalatable the duty was to me. Though I declined to tell allmy reasons for distrusting this particular officer of the militia, I surely said enough to expose myself to curiosity. It is a thing I probably would never have done were it not for the fact that for the first time in all my years, I felt that another family’s honor was just as important to me as my own.
