The Golden Apples of the Sun Read online

  “At least we have that consolation,” Charlotte said bleakly. “She did not die alone. Despite her mischievous ways, I was fond of Lydia. She was such a lively, young girl…still a child really in so many ways.”

  _______________________________

  Back at Netherfield, a shaken Darcy avoided Bingley’s offer of a nightcap and went directly to his room. There his man helped him to disrobe but instead of getting into bed he sat silently in his armchair for the next few hours, a victim both of indigestion and a mind in turmoil.

  Because his sister had escaped physically unharmed from Wickham’s clutches with her reputation intact, Darcy had, over the last six months, largely tried to close his mind to the social consequences Georgiana would have faced had circumstances not worked out as they did. But now he dwelled upon the fate of an extremely young Lydia Bennet and the full significance - the utter wickedness of Wickham’s behavior bore down upon him. The man was a predator. He had no regard for a single living thing on the planet beside himself. Never had Darcy known anyone so utterly selfish, so devoid of human feeling and compassion.

  Wickham had escaped Darcy’s retribution six months ago only because of the need to protect Georgiana’s name. However, to his way of thinking, simple laws of morality demanded that the man should now pay, and pay heavily for the young life he had ruined. He, Darcy, was in the position to ensure that it happened; but first the man had to be found. To that end, Darcy moved to his desk, there to write two letters: one to his man of business and the other to his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. These were not easy to write. Matters had to be thought through and logically planned. Funds must be advanced, evidence marshalled. So many eventualities had to be considered that Darcy only finished the last letter in the small hours of the morning, scrawling the direction on it with relief. He had done his duty. Perhaps sleep would now find him.

  Chapter 8

  “Man is a rational animal who always loses his temper when he is called upon to act in accordance

  with the dictates of reason.”

  Oscar Wilde

  Darcy awoke late the next morning; too late it seemed to catch Bingley who had risen at some ungodly hour and gone out riding, again. Struck by this unusual behaviour, he began to suspect that something was afoot, but he was content to breakfast alone, after which he quietly settled down in the library with the London papers.

  Several hours had passed when he realized with a start that Bingley was not back. At that point it began to weigh on him that he had still not conveyed the truth of the Bennet family’s situation to his friend, who might at this very moment be bothering the delectable Miss Bennet with his unwanted attentions. After all, Darcy wasn’t sure quite what Lady Lucas had said to Bingley the night before.

  He had just decided to take a ride to look for his friend, when he heard sounds from the front door and stepped into the hallway in time to see Bingley handing his hat to the footman.

  “Bingley, I have been waiting on your return. Could I have a few words with you?”

  “Certainly you may. It sounds urgent,” said Bingley, slapping the dust off his jacket as he walked towards his friend.

  Once the library door was closed behind them, Darcy said, “I’m not sure what Lady Lucas said to you last night, Bingley, but both Elizabeth Bennet and Charlotte Lucas have asked me to speak to you about the situation in which the Bennet family find themselves.”

  “There is no need for you to involve yourself, Darcy. Miss Bennet told me about it yesterday.”

  “You saw Miss Bennet yesterday?”

  “I did. We chanced to meet while I was out riding,” said Bingley, guilty colour surging up his neck and mottling his cheeks.

  Darcy looked at him skeptically. “And did you ‘chance’ to meet by accident or design?”

  “There might have been something of that to it,” said Bingley, looking rather conscious. “Dash it all, Darcy, I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

  “But now that you know their story…”

  “It makes no difference to me,” said Bingley defensively. “Do you know that I found her crying this morning? Apparently Longbourn is entailed and if the family is to survive once their father passes on, either Miss Bennet or Miss Elizabeth must marry the heir. They were told that he is coming to visit at the beginning of next week, with the intention of taking his pick of them,” said Bingley, his flashing eyes expressing his outrage.

  “To force a beautiful girl like that into marriage with some clodhopping country parson is a waste – no, even worse than a waste; it is like selling her into slavery!”

  “You exaggerate, Charles. Anyway, this man’s selection of Miss Bennet cannot be a foregone conclusion: he might take a liking to Miss Elizabeth.”

  “That’s not likely, is it? Miss Bennet is the real beauty and, of the two of them, she seems to have the gentler spirit. She is everything good. No, it will be Jane that he chooses.”

  “Oh! So, it’s Jane now! I see that you have taken one of your fancies to Miss Bennet, Bingley. It will not do. Can you not see how cruel it would be to awaken feelings in a young woman in her situation when, in the end, you know you will have to walk away?”

  “Perhaps you misjudge me, Darcy.”

  “I doubt it, Bingley. You have made a point of meeting with the young lady, twice in two days. Any young woman would be encouraged by that. I would be extremely happy to think that I am wrong and that you do not fancy yourself in love once again - but I have no real confidence that it is so.”

  “I meant that this time it is different. I might not walk away.”

  Darcy stared at Bingley, incredulity in his eyes. “You mean that you intend marriage! Charles, do you not see that this has to end now? The Bennet family is disgraced. How can you possibly say with any certainty that you love Miss Bennet after a mere three days in her company? And I mean love her enough to marry her, despite the scandal that surrounds her family. No, you are allowing your compassion to influence you here.”

  Bingley remained silent, tracing his finger along the surface of the desk.

  Encouraged by his silence, Darcy began to speak again, “Be reasonable, Bingley. If your acquaintance was even as long as several weeks, I might begin to think a little differently. But you know nothing about this young woman and you haven’t the time to acquire the knowledge you need before the cousin arrives.’

  “She might be toying with you, preying on your kind heart. You really don’t know what kind of person she is. But let us look at it positively and suppose that she is honest: can’t you see that if you continue meeting her in secret only to discover down the line that she is not precisely what you want in a wife, it would then be utterly cruel to abandon her to her fate? This is not London. Here the Bennet family is ostracized and Jane Bennet does not have alternatives. She has no possibility of another suitor besides this cousin of hers. Will you allow her to reject him, invest all her hopes in you and then break her heart?”

  “Darcy, this cousin is not an option. He is a callous person. In his letter to Mr. Bennet he apparently congratulates the man on the death of his youngest daughter: meaning that her death is better than disgrace, I suppose. And this is the sort of cold-hearted scoundrel that you want Miss Bennet to marry.”

  “Why blame me? I have had nothing to do with creating Miss Bennet’s current problems. I only found out about a forced marriage with this so-called cousin this very minute. The blame must lie with her father, who has not provided adequately for his family after his death. Surely, with an estate of that size and just a little prudential management, he could have put money away for their future so that his daughters would not be forced into marriage. No, Bingley. Miss Bennet’s problems were of her family’s making – that is, until we arrived and you chose to make them yours. I am only advising you to think this through very carefully before you go any further, my friend,” Darcy said as he walked towards the door.

  He was deliberately leaving his friend alone. Bingley in the clutc
hes of infatuation was not a rational creature. Any further discussion would only widen the gulf between them. His friend needed time to cool down and reflect on the reality of his situation and Darcy was going to give it to him.

  Elizabeth Bennet would not be that lucky. The whole situation reeked of entrapment and Darcy had every intention of having some strong words with that young woman on the subject of her sister’s secret meetings with Bingley before much more time passed. He could kick himself for wasting his pity on her. At Oakham Mount, he had completely believed her when she told him that she wanted to protect her elder sister from the embarrassment of Bingley’s advances - only to find out now that, at the very moment that she had been convincing him of her innocence and openness, her sister had been meeting secretly with his friend and playing on his sympathy.

  “Found her crying” indeed! How very convenient! Darcy could just imagine how the two sisters had schemed to ensure that it was Bingley who found Jane Bennet. The whole scenario was far too coincidental to have been anything else but orchestrated. Darcy had experienced deception at the hands of women before and Elizabeth Bennet seemed the most likely suspect. She was certainly intelligent enough to be behind it; but she needn’t think that she could play the innocent with him. Bingley might fall for it but not he! Miss Elizabeth Bennet would have to get up very early in the morning if she hoped to fool him.

  ________________________________

  At around three o’clock that afternoon, Lizzy Bennet stood at the gate to Granny Wiseman’s cottage. She was on an errand to deliver chamomile syrup and a jar of Cook’s calves’ foot jelly. She had just moved the weight of her basket from one hand to the other, when she looked up and spotted a small dust cloud at the bottom of the road. It told her of a rider approaching and this being a fairly unusual occurrence in Longbourn Village, she lingered until she could see more clearly.

  Mr. Darcy, she thought a few seconds later, as the athletic outline, dark hair and upright posture of the rider began to emerge from the dust. Immediately she hurried up the pathway and into the house, knowing that, just as she had seen him, he would have seen her.

  Lizzy was still harboring resentment against Darcy at the way he had questioned her until she felt forced to disclose her family’s disgrace. But apart from his intrusiveness on that occasion, it had been clear to her from their first meeting that Darcy considered himself to be quite the catch. Understanding that had been enough to make Lizzy resolve that she would never pander to his vanity: never allow him to patronize her. She couldn’t think of anything more humiliating now than to allow that conceited man to imagine that she might linger in the road in order to attract his attention.

  Chancing (quite accidentally) to look out of the cottage window some ten minutes later, she was surprised to see him on the road outside the gate. He had looped his reins over the top bar and was obviously waiting for her to come out. In the meantime, he scowled and paced impatiently back and forth, his hands behind his back. Well, he can wait, Lizzy thought, as he happened to glance up at the cottage. Mr. Darcy is a little too full of his own consequence for my liking.

  Thinking she might like to teach the gentleman a useful lesson in humility, she turned impulsively to the old lady at her side and smiling widely said, “You know, Granny Wiseman, I think I will take you up on your offer of a cup of tea after all.”

  A full thirty minutes later, Mr. Darcy (who had earlier seen Lizzy’s face appear at the window) saw the door to the cottage finally open and Miss Elizabeth come tripping down the path, gaily waving goodbye to her hostess. At the gate, she stopped abruptly.

  “Oh! Mr. Darcy! Fancy seeing you here,” she said, in apparent consternation, her eyelashes all a flutter.

  Elizabeth Bennet might be many things, but timid she was not. Darcy thought it would take an earthquake to fluster her. However, he was not without a sense of humour and could not prevent the twitching of small muscle at the side of his mouth.

  “Well, Miss Elizabeth, if you are hoping to convince me that you were unaware of my presence at the gate this past half hour, you have failed dismally. But now that you have amused yourself with these antics, I wonder if I could have a few words with you on the subject of your elder sister and my friend, Charles Bingley?”

  “I thought that I had covered that thoroughly the last time our paths crossed, sir,” said Lizzie in what she thought was an excessively polite manner, considering her rising irritation.

  Mr. Darcy raised his brows. “Ah! But there is a brand new angle to the matter that needs to be explored. Do you mean to suggest, Miss Elizabeth, that you are unaware that your sister has been secretly meeting my friend and that they have been exchanging confidences and comforting one another?” he asked, pronouncing both words in an equally scathing manner.

  Her eyes widened a little but she recovered quickly and retorted, “I’m sure by that you mean to imply that my sister is doing the confiding in order to encourage Mr. Bingley to do the comforting. But might it not be the other way around? It has just occurred to me that it could quite easily be Mr. Bingley who would need comforting. After all, you are his only source of companionship at Netherfield at the moment... the poor man.”

  Elizabeth was well aware that she had just been extremely rude to a man who was little more than a stranger; but Darcy looked at her steadily without any change in his expression.

  “Put away those claws, Miss Elizabeth or I might begin to do more than just suspect you and your sister of attempting to compromise my friend; or at the very least of scheming to arouse his pity. I’m sure you’re both hoping that Bingley can be brought to feel compassionate enough to propose marriage and so rescue your sister from her unwanted suitor: this man who is to inherit your father’s estate.”

  Lizzie’s eyes narrowed to slits of green and anger began to fizz along her veins. How dared he accuse Jane of having such underhanded intentions!

  “Don’t threaten me, sir,” she said through her teeth. “I have nothing to do with what you do or don’t suspect. As far as I am concerned you can go ahead and indulge your wildest imaginings. Whatever I do or say will have no effect, as you seem to be quite capable of arriving at the most ridiculous conclusions completely unaided. Your problem (if you’ll allow me to say so) is that you have a surprisingly devious mind and are much too assiduous on your friend’s behalf. I wonder if he is aware that you work so industriously for him? Would he approve of your interference if he did know?”

  “Beware, Miss Elizabeth, you show your desperation by threatening to expose me to Bingley. It is now completely obvious that you were aware of their meeting!”

  Elizabeth threw up her hands in frustration. “Again, you will read into it what you will. As it happens, I knew nothing about it until you told me.”

  He pounced eagerly. “But now that you are aware, you will speak to your sister and prevent any further meetings between them?”

  Elizabeth ground her teeth. “Mr. Darcy, who are you to dictate? My sister is twenty-one years old: therefore an adult. I will guarantee nothing on her behalf! Of course, you may treat Mr. Bingley as a child if you choose. It would be quite in keeping with the rest of your arrogant behavior. And now, I bid you a very good day, sir.”

  Angry tears pricked behind her eyelids and she turned to walk away. But Darcy reached out and placed a heavy hand on her arm. “Not so fast, Miss Elizabeth…” he began to say, when a shrill voice called out behind them.

  They looked up to see Granny Wiseman hobbling down the pathway. Thoroughly enjoying her walk- on part in the drama taking place at her front gate, she shouted and waved her stick threateningly in the air, “You leave Miss Lizzy alone, you villain! I know your type. Think you can come here with your fine London airs and force your attentions on our young ladies. Get your hands off her, I say.”

  Such was the noise she made, that all along the street windows began to open. Curious villagers leaned out, their elbows on their window sills, ready to be entertained by whatever small amount of
amusement could be got at someone else’s expense.

  Embarrassed by the attention but thinking to be ironic, Darcy played to the audience and made the old lady an extravagant bow. “Madam, I assure you, it was no such thing,” he said.

  But his attempt at sarcasm was lost on her. She continued to berate him and, as she shouted, doors opened and a small, interested crowd began to filter out onto the street. Lizzy shook her arm loose and stepped back.

  There was laughter in her voice when she said, “You are well and truly in the basket now, sir. I’m not sure how you will extricate yourself; but for my part this is the appropriate moment to leave you to it. Your accusations against my sister prove that you have an inventive mind. I’m sure that you are quite capable of coming up with any number of excuses.”

  She smiled and sauntered off down the road, swinging her empty basket. Darcy stood surrounded by curious villagers on the dusty verge. His ‘inventive mind’ was a total blank and he was in such a towering rage that he could barely speak.

  Chapter 9

  “Marriage is an alliance entered into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut, and a woman who

  can't sleep with the window open.”

  George Bernard Shaw

  Lizzy was not quite as nonchalant about her encounter with Mr. Darcy as she had appeared to be. She had put up a good front while walking away, but in reality she was unused to being confronted in such a fashion - and by such a man! His manner and accusations had shaken her to her foundations. As she strode home she rehashed their confrontation and her fury intensified along with her sense of injustice. Such was her rage that, without pausing for thought, she allowed it to propel her through the front door and straight into her father’s study.

  Mr. Bennet, who was seated behind his desk and engaged in translating a tricky passage, cast his daughter a fleeting glance as she stormed into the room.