Page 102 of The Widower of Pemberley

Recalling that Georgiana had been strongly affected by Wickham, Darcy addressed himself as much to his sister as to his wife. “Mr. Wickham has fled the country. He boarded a ship bound for the United States—he thought this an efficacious way to avoid the consequences of my prosecution against him for slander.”

“Oh.” Georgiana pressed a hand against her mouth. “I hope he will be happy. I hope he finds a place where he might turn to good.”

“Whatever the truth of his fate, we should imagine that hewillchange for good—perhaps he will become a fanatic preacher,” Elizabeth said. “I believe they are most popular in America.”

“Do not laugh about him,” Georgiana said. “You know that he was my friend at a time when I was lonely.”

“I would not hurt you for a thousand guineas,” Elizabeth replied. “And I shall not forget again that even though my brief memories of him are wholly unpleasant, Mr. Wickham is not a wholly unpleasant man.”

“No one is,” Darcy said. “We are all a mix of good and evil, but some of us have better fortune in the mix. Wickham could give a good sermon. Entirely insincere, but excellent. That is why my father meant him for the church.”

Georgiana sighed. “I am happy that he is out of the country. I shall feel safer knowing that there is no chance that you two will meet again.”

“That pleases me as well,” Elizabeth said.

“I would not fight a duel with him. I have said as much,” Darcy replied.

“That is not what I meant,” Elizabeth said. “I rather fear that he would annoy you and make you unhappy. He already has.”

Despite his love for Pemberley, his love for Derbyshire, and his love for his duties and pleasures at home, Darcy found himself eager to go south because Elizabeth was.

She was yearning to see her family at Longbourn again.

The plan was for them to stay at Netherfield for a little more than a week before going to London.

Bingley had already gone to town, but he had freely offered the use of his home to Darcy. In his letter, Darcy’s friend had seemed irritated by the way his sister had pestered him into settling himself in town at the earliest opportunity during the Season.

After reading this letter to Elizabeth, Darcy said, “I value Bingley greatly, but I can scarce understand him at times. His sister is fully capable of finding a friend in London to stay with if she is so eager to be in town. I would never alter my plan on such grounds if I was strongly attached to it. And if I was sufficiently unfixed in my plans that I left early at the urging of my sister, I would certainly not complain about the destruction of those plans.”

Elizabeth laughed. “One must always account for differences in personality. But I think Mr. Bingley is good for you, as odd as the pairing is.”

“He is. The best of friends—though I hope now that I am married again, he will not be so eager to force me to dance.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I certainly hope not, for it will bemyduty to force you to dance enough that you do not look like a bear prowling the edges of a room. You used to look as though you might rip every young lady of a pretty persuasion apart. And not in the delightfully sinful way a rake might rip a pretty girl apart, but in the way of an actual bear.”

“That was a strained metaphor,” Darcy replied. “Surely I cansometimesstand about glaring at the crowd without terrifying every chit in her first Season. You would not deny me that.”

“No! No. I would neverwhollydeny you that pleasure. I demand it. I wish you to glare at the crowd for at least one dance out of three. Perhaps even one in two. Elsewise I would lose half the reputation I have as the bear tamer who married you. You must dance just enough that everyone is impressed with how sociable I have made you—but only,” she added, “if you are not truly opposed to the practice.”

Darcy bowed to her. “For a kiss from your coral lips, I might hazard even half a dozen dances in a single night.”

“Oh my. I had not known my charms extended so far.” Elizabeth pressed her hand against her chest and looked coquettishly up at him from under her lashes in a way that made him eager for the evening. “Half a dozen!”

Darcy of course was happy that they could stay at Netherfield rather than Longbourn.

He had rather hoped to not be in the closest of confines with Mrs. Bennet. The plan he had made for when Mr. Bennet died—which seemed more and more of anif—was to place Mrs. Bennet and at least some of her daughters in a pleasant cottage that was a ten-minute walk from Pemberley House.

A little bit of distance could be a very good thing.

But if Mrs. Bennet wished to remain settled in Hertfordshire near her sister, friends, and childhood memories, Darcy would be quite willing to rent a cottage for her wherever in the neighbourhood took her fancy.

Once their carriage crossed the county boundary into Hertfordshire, Elizabeth began to fidget with delight, look around with smiles, and show every sign of eagerness to be home.

She pointed out the turns towards great houses and churches that she had visited with Mr. Bennet as a child. Then they came close enough that she had travelled about the area several times a year, and then they were in Elizabeth’s own home territory.

Seemingly forgetting that all of them had been in Hertfordshire before, Elizabeth eagerly named every property she recognised, telling stories of the inhabitants, the houses, the fields, cows, and stiles.

They went directly to Longbourn as Elizabeth was impatient to see her family—Darcy knew that this meant her eldest sister and Mr. Bennet more than the others. The carriages would be sent on to Netherfield for the servants to unpack their possessions and prepare their rooms.