Chapter Twenty-Two Back to Previous Chapter The day of the Wickhams' departure soon came, and the family gathered to see them off. Mrs. Bennet's distress at the loss of her favourite daughter, just when she had finally achieved that state calculated to make her most interesting, was considerable. "Oh, my dear Lydia," she cried, "when shall we meet again?" "Oh, lord, I don't know. Not these two or three years, perhaps." "Write to me very often, my dear." "As often as I can. But you know married women have never much time for writing, do we, Cathy?" Despite a complete want of encouragement from Catherine, Lydia had not given up her campaign to make a particular friend of her sister-in-law. "My sisters may write to me. They will have nothing else to do." Catherine, who kept up a voluminous correspondence with her friends in Fullerton as well as Georgiana Darcy and the Viscountess Whiting, bit her lips as though she longed to say something very much, but thought better of it. Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things. "He is as fine a fellow," said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of the house, "as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law." The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. Henry had not mentioned his friends' impending visit, not wishing to distress his sisters; but once Mrs. Nicholls began to prepare Netherfield to receive its master, the news could not be long secret, and it soon arrived at Longbourn via the usual conduit of such intelligence, namely, Mrs. Philips. Mrs. Bennet's spiritless condition was immediately relieved, and her fondest hopes of the previous year revived. "As soon as Mr. Bingley comes, my dear," she said to her husband, "you must wait on him, of course." Mr. Bennet indicated, in no uncertain terms, that he had no intention of doing so. "But you must visit him, Mr. Bennet," she fretted, "for it is unlikely that he will come to Longbourn otherwise, and we must invite him to dine before Mrs. Long does." "You forget, madam," said Henry with a smile, "that Bingley is my particular friend, and he knows that I am at Longbourn. It is likely that he will call here, whether or not my father calls at Netherfield." Mrs. Bennet was instantly all smiles. "I did forget, Henry! How delightful! I'll warrant that Mr. Bingley calls upon us before any other family in the neighbourhood!" Her prediction turned out to be correct; the day after Bingley was known to be at Netherfield--intelligence that Mrs. Bennet had been at some pains to procure--Henry and Catherine spent much of the morning wandering about the shrubbery, planning improvements to their own property. When they returned to the house, the butler informed them that the Netherfield gentlemen had come to call, and they hastened into the drawing-room. A few minutes were necessarily passed in the civilities demanded by long friendship. "I am especially delighted," Henry could not resist saying, "that you have torn yourselves away from Netherfield so soon after your arrival. It is a mark of true friendship." He was amused by the embarrassed smile that spread across Bingley's face at his sally. Both gentlemen expressed their delight in seeing their friend's wife, and both kissed her hand. Catherine asked how her friend Georgiana did, and was assured that her brother had left her at Pemberley well and in good spirits. "In fact," said Darcy, withdrawing a fat packet from his pocket, "when she learned that you were still at Longbourn, she charged me with bringing you her latest letter." Catherine took the letter with great delight, and thanked him prettily. "And a substantial missive it is," said Henry. "By the looks of it, you have saved me at least half a crown in postage, Darcy." He met his friend's gaze levelly. "I am in your debt." To most observers, it was the sort of lighthearted raillery engaged in by friends of long standing, but Henry was sending Darcy a more serious message, and there was comprehension in his friend's expression. "It is no trouble," Darcy replied. "I am happy to be of service." They all sat down again; Henry expected Darcy to take a seat by Elizabeth and employ all the arts of pleasing that he had demonstrated at Pemberley, but instead he sat by himself and, with a serious face, observed the interaction between Jane and Bingley. Henry had to admit to himself that he was no less interested. At first, Jane and Bingley talked together but little; however, every five minutes he seemed to be giving her more of his attention. Jane responded with her usual good nature, and she was as unaffected as always, and in particularly good looks. Within a short time, it appeared that Bingley's former admiration was rekindled. Mrs. Bennet noticed it as well, and was prepared to encourage it. "It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away," she said. He readily agreed to it. "I began to be afraid you would never come back again," she continued. "People did say you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have seen it in the papers. It was in the Times and the Courier, I know; though it was not put in as it ought to be. It only said, "Lately, George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet," without there being a syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything. It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?" Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Henry watched Darcy's face, which remained perfectly composed and serious, though he seemed resolutely unwilling to catch his friend's eye. "It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married," continued her mother, "but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay I do not know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have heard of his leaving the ----shire, and of his being gone into the regulars. Thank Heaven! He has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he deserves." "Perhaps, madam," said Henry, his face and tone all respect, "but I suspect that Wickham--and his wife--have more friends than you know of." At this, Darcy's glance at last met Henry's; his expression did not change, though there was a certain warmth in his look. Henry believed that he and Darcy understood one another tolerably well. Elizabeth hastily changed the subject. "Mr. Bingley, do you mean to make any stay in the country at present?" Henry glanced at his sister sharply. Her colour was high--indeed, had been so since he came into the room, though he had attributed it, with pleasure, to the consciousness of Darcy's presence; but Elizabeth now seemed strangely agitated, as though she wished to deflect her mother's attention away from Darcy's relationship with Wickham. Her stratagem was successful: Mrs. Bennet left Darcy to his silent ruminations and turned all her officious attentions to Bingley. Henry watched his sister's face, but it revealed nothing other than the blush, though that could be attributed to distress at her mother's rudeness, or a thousand other things. Does Lizzy know something? Or, like me, does she merely suspect it? After considerable soul-searching, Catherine had told Henry of Lydia's thoughtless revelation; not out of any desire to carry tales, she hastened to assure her husband, but so that he could be prepared for any questions Elizabeth might ask. Only her knowledge that Mr. Darcy particularly wished that Elizabeth not learn of his involvement in Lydia's marriage could persuade her to speak. Her own brothers had not brought her up to be a tattle. Catherine's scruples amused Henry, and he had been glad for the intelligence; but fortunately, no questions had come from that quarter. It never occurred to Henry that Elizabeth might seek enlightenment elsewhere. The gentlemen stayed nearly an hour. When they rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet invited them to dine at Longbourn in a few days' time, an invitation that was graciously accepted. Henry accompanied his friends to the drive, where a groom stood ready with their horses. "Will you come and shoot with us tomorrow, Tilney?" Bingley asked him. "It will be like old times. Unless, of course, your father has already claimed you." He stopped, looked around him, and laughed. "A great deal has occurred in the past year, since first we arrived in Hertfordshire!" "Indeed," said Henry with a grin. "And I am at your service on the morrow. My father is a dilatory sportsman at best, and can spare me quite well for the morning. I shall be at Netherfield at seven o'clock, and I expect breakfast, mind." "You shall have it," declared Bingley. "Breakfast, and any other meal you like. I fear I cannot invite Cathy to dine at Netherfield as I would like, not having a lady to receive her. Make my excuses to her, will you?" "Of course. Fear not, Bingley. You can do little wrong in my wife's eyes. Nor can you, Darcy," he added. Darcy smiled and swung himself easily onto his mount. "Until tomorrow, then." "Until tomorrow," echoed Bingley, as the groom boosted him into the saddle. "Until tomorrow," Henry agreed, and watched them ride away. Unfortunately for Henry's curiosity, which was extreme, he found little opportunity to speak to Darcy alone during the next morning's sport. Darcy kept a servant in constant attendance, and stayed near Bingley as much as possible. Finally, as they walked back to the house, Henry found a chance to seize his friend by the elbow and pull him aside. "Why do you avoid me, Darcy?" he asked. "You must know that I am keen to speak with you." "I am not avoiding you," Darcy replied. "Why would I?" "Perhaps because you suspect that I wish to question you about your involvement with the final arrangements of my sister's marriage." "You seem convinced that I was involved." "I am convinced." Darcy glanced at Henry askance. "From what source came this intelligence?" "I need no source. I know you too well; indeed, I have the evidence of your late generosity to myself. I now depend upon you for a more complete explanation of the events that occurred after I left town." "There is nothing you need to know, Tilney. I beg you will not importune me." Darcy lengthened his stride until he caught up to Bingley. Henry did not see his friends again until they came to dine at Longbourn a few days later. Mrs. Bennet had thoughtfully assembled a large party for their entertainment, and yet when they all repaired to the dining-room, Bingley managed to secure the chair next to Jane. Darcy, to Henry's astonishment, placed himself at Mrs. Bennet's right hand, presumably so that he might observe Jane and Bingley across the table; but this solicitude for his friend placed him almost as far from Elizabeth as the table could divide them. Elizabeth had eschewed her usual place to sit near her father with Henry and Catherine. Henry wondered briefly if she had done so in the assumption that Darcy would sit near Henry as well; she rarely spoke, and seemed not in spirits throughout dinner. When the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing-room, Darcy started toward the table where Jane and Elizabeth were pouring tea and coffee, but was prevented from sitting down by one of the young ladies present, who moved her chair closer to Elizabeth and whispered in her ear. Darcy took a cup of coffee and retreated to the other end of the room, where Catherine had taken a seat a little ways apart from the rest of the company. Henry watched them speak together for a few moments; finally he decided to ignore the common etiquette that dictated a husband desert his wife on most social occasions, and took the chair on Catherine's other side. He reached for her hand and said, "You look a trifle peaked, my sweet." She gave him a weary smile. "I am a little tired." "That is not surprising. You have had a busy day." Mrs. Bennet had used her daughter-in-law as her primary messenger and aide-de-camp in the preparations for the dinner party; Catherine, from both a strong sense of duty as well as a genuine desire to be helpful, had cheerfully complied, running countless times up and down the stairs between Mrs. Bennet's dressing room and the housekeeper's room near the kitchen. Her industry, however tiring, had a reward of sorts: Henry heard his stepmother tell Mrs. Philips that "Mrs. Tilney is a helpful creature, I suppose. I dare say she pictures herself as mistress of Longbourn, but after all, that is her right." Even such grudging praise was a far cry from the open hostility she had formerly practiced, but Catherine did not seem overly pleased by her promotion. Indeed, there were faint rings of weariness under her eyes. "I hope I did not intrude," said Henry. "You two looked so cozy together here in the corner that I could not resist joining you." Darcy smiled. "I see that even Henry Tilney is not immune from the importunities of an envious nature." Catherine looked at Darcy in surprise. "Henry is not envious, Mr. Darcy! I dare say he was just curious about our conversation." She turned to Henry. "Mr. Darcy saw me sitting here alone and undertook to entertain me. Was not that kind of him?" "Indeed," said Henry, bowing to his friend. "I can state emphatically that Darcy's speculations are false; whether or not I trust him, my sweet, I certainly trust you without reserve, at least in a crowded drawing-room." Darcy laughed at his sally, though Catherine looked confused. "Now I cannot determine the veracity of your speculations upon Darcy's motive, Catherine, but I can at least attribute them, as always, to your delightful and generous habit of assuming the best motivations in the actions of all whom you meet." Catherine smiled at Henry, and then suddenly let forth a great yawn. She clapped her hand over her mouth and looked rather surprised. "I beg your pardon! I must be more tired than I realized." She rubbed at her forehead. "This room is so close, and the noise gives me the headache." "Why did you not say so?" cried Henry in concern. "Perhaps you should retire." "Before the company has left? Would not that be terribly rude?" "As my stepmother loves to point out, you are not the mistress of Longbourn, and you are ill. No need to make a scene; slip away, and I will make your excuses." "Very well. I beg you will excuse me. Good night, Mr. Darcy," she added as she rose from her chair. The gentlemen rose as well, and Mr. Darcy shook her hand. "I am afraid that I must not say good night, but good-bye," he said. "I have business in town, and leave in the morning." "Oh, no!" cried Catherine. "You have just got here! Will you return?" "Yes, in a week; perhaps a little more. Good-bye, Catherine. Please accept my best wishes for a return to your customary good health." "Thank you--and do come back soon, Mr. Darcy. You will be very much missed." Catherine smiled at them both and left the room so quickly and quietly that no one else realized that she had gone. Darcy returned to his chair, looking bemused. Henry took the chair that Catherine had vacated. "Now, Darcy, I have you as a captive audience. I wish you would answer my question. No one is paying us any mind; we are quite private." Darcy looked at Henry, his face all innocence. "I have not the pleasure of understanding you, Tilney. What question would that be?" "You know perfectly well," said Henry in a low, firm voice. "I want you to tell me your part in the arrangement of Lydia's marriage. Do not deny it; I know you had a hand in it." As they talked together, Mrs. Bennet had been busy setting up the card tables, and at that moment her rapacious glance fell upon them. "Come, gentlemen!" she cried with brittle good humour. "I need two more to make up this table! You cannot hide in the corner all night! Come along!" Private conversation was certainly not possible at a card table, and Henry swallowed his curiosity with all the grace he could muster. Mrs. Bennet had contrived to get Jane and Bingley at the same card table, but her genius failed at keeping the two Netherfield gentlemen to supper. Their carriage was ordered before any of the others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them. The remaining guests departed soon after, and Mrs. Bennet happily declared the evening a success. She did not mention Bingley in front of Henry, but the triumphant light in her eye showed as plainly as words could that she considered him a certain thing. Henry made his excuses and left them. He put his head into his father's library to inform him that the guests had gone away and that Mr. Bennet might now safely emerge without danger of encountering any absurdities besides the customary domestic ones, and went up to his bedchamber. As he reached the top of the stairs, he became aware that Elizabeth was just behind him, and waited for her. "Where is Catherine?" she asked. "She did not feel at all the thing, and went up early." "Poor girl! Can I do anything for her?" "I think a good night's rest will do all she could want. What of you, love?" "I?" she replied, looking her surprise. "You said barely a word at dinner, and you have not been in your usual spirits for some days now." Elizabeth hesitated. "It is difficult for me to be in Mr. Darcy's company, after everything that has happened." "You were not uncomfortable at Pemberley. What has happened to change your disposition?" She gazed at him in open astonishment. "Why--the service he performed for Lydia. Surely you know about it?" Henry stared back at her for a moment, then motioned her into her bedchamber. "I think it possible that you know more than I. Has Darcy told you something?" "No, he did not." Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, and then crossed to the table next to her bed and took up her prayer book. "Lydia said that Mr. Darcy was at her wedding--" "Yes, Catherine told me about it." "Naturally, my curiosity was raised by Lydia's remark. I wrote to my aunt and asked her about it." She drew forth a folded piece of paper from within the pages of the book and handed it to her brother. It was a letter from Mrs. Gardiner, and explained Darcy's involvement in the affair in detail. When Wickham had refused to adhere to the bargain he set prior to the boxing match, Darcy went to him, unknown to Mr. Gardiner, and offered Wickham a financial motivation to marry Lydia. Wickham wanted more than he could get at first, but at last agreed to Darcy settling his debts, buying his commission, and making a settlement upon Lydia. Every action that Mr. Bennet had ascribed to his brother-in-law had been performed by Darcy--but, Henry noted with some relief, his father had overestimated the exact amount paid out. Elizabeth watched Henry read the letter. "You did not tell me that Mr. Darcy arranged your--meeting--with Wickham." "Arranged it! He did everything but step into the ring in my place." Henry folded the letter and handed it back to her. "For all the good it did." "No, Henry." She reached for his hand. "Do not discount your actions. You stood up for your sister, and for your family. I am proud of you, and I know Papa is too. You cannot be blamed for Wickham's failure to honour his word. But I do not understand why you kept secret Mr. Darcy's involvement." "Darcy asked me not to tell my family--he particularly did not want you to know. I could not but respect his wishes." "He did all this," she said, shaking her head, "and did not want me to know! Why did he do it, then? I can only imagine out of friendship to you--but then why did he not tell you of his later actions?" "No, no," cried Henry, putting his hands in front of him in a warding-off motion. "You shall not trap me into speculation. If it must be guess-work, let us guess for ourselves. Search your heart, Lizzy; what does it tell you?" She coloured, and turned away, raising her hands to her burning cheeks. "I cannot believe--not after all that has occurred--" She shook her head. "No, I will not torture myself with fancy and conjecture." Henry knew better, and judged it best to leave Elizabeth to her own thoughts. "Good night, dearest Lizzy," he said, taking up his candle. "Sleep well." Elizabeth's sense of humour had returned, and there was a twinkle in her eye that delighted her brother. "Wretch! As though I could sleep at all after this conversation! Good night, Henry!" He kissed his hand to her and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. 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