Love and Prejudice Chapter 17

Mary sat on her bed surrounded by Elizabeth, Georgiana and Beatrice, who were busily fretting over her, true to Darcy’s word. Mary was relieved to be back at Pemberley surrounded by friends, but she was anxious about relating the story of what sent her running into the woods to her friends. She had managed to keep the tale from Derek during the ride back to Pemberley. He had been so relieved to see find her unharmed, that he had not persisted in his questioning. However, after much gentle and earnest pleading by Elizabeth, Mary was persuaded to tell them what happened. The ladies responded with equal measures of shock and anger.

“That serpent!” Elizabeth fumed. “To think that he would ask you such a thing!”

“Well, bravo for you, Mary,” Beatrice added. “I dare say he deserved worse than a bitten tongue! Why, had my Derek been there he would have called him out!”

Mary started at this exclamation. She remembered Richard’s barely contained fury after her previous encounter with the Viscount. She feared that Richard would very well engage his brother in a duel if he ever found out.

“My husband must be informed at once,” Elizabeth said as she rose from the bed. “I won’t have that man one more night in my house!”

“No,” Mary exclaimed as she made to follow her. “Richard must not know. He will be so angry, I do not know what he will do.”

Georgiana came beside Mary and wrapped her arms around her friend protectively. “Do not worry, Mary. My brother shan’t let him do anything rash.”

***************

Peterson and Darcy followed an incensed Fitzwilliam into the foyer. Richard walked past the footmen waiting to divest him of his coat without so much as a backwards glance. As he began to make his way up the stairs to the Viscount’s rooms, Darcy forestalled him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Richard, wait,” Darcy pleaded as Fitzwilliam attempted to shrug out of his hold.

“There is no time. I should have taken care of this days ago,” Fitzwilliam replied as he took the stairs two steps at a time.

“Taken care of what?”

“This is not the first time that my brother has made advances on Miss Farthington,” Fitzwiliam replied as he turned to face his cousin.

“A few days ago I came upon them in the music room. He had her cornered by the pianoforte and Mary looked quite frightened. I had words with my brother and made it clear that he was not to impose upon her again.”

“Why did you not share this with me?”

“I thought that my brother would not want another meeting with my fist so soon after the first,” he replied.

“Well, it would seem that he did not heed your warning,” Peterson added.

Darcy shook his head in disbelief before running one hand through his hair in frustration. “Let us first speak with Mary, then we shall know what must be done. I do not want to confront him without all of the facts.”

Fitzwilliam sighed before replying mirthlessly. “Very well. At least I can be assured that I will know to pummel him sufficiently.”

The three men made their way to Mary’s rooms only to be met part of the way there by a fierce looking Elizabeth.

“Husband, something must be done! Your cousin has imposed himself upon Mary quite abominably!”

“Tell me what happened,” Darcy replied.

Elizabeth glanced warily at Derek, silently communicating her concern over the propriety of his conclusions.

“It is alright, Elizabeth. Peterson is Mary’s cousin and he has already involved himself a great deal in finding Mary. I am sure that we can rely on his discretion,” Darcy replied.

After Fitzwilliam’s terse nod of agreement, Elizabeth recounted all that she had been told. Soon the men’s faces mirrored Elizabeth’s look of outrage and anger. Darcy paced the hall silently, his fist at his mouth in his usual posture of fevered contemplation. Peterson stood with a pained expression, shaking his head in disbelief of the Viscount’s audacity. However, Fitzwilliam’s look gave Elizabeth pause as she began to understand Mary’s concern. His face looked as if it were carved from marble, his lips pressed tightly in a thin unforgiving line and his eyes narrowed in anger.

Fitzwilliam turned abruptly and started down the hall, his long legs carrying him swiftly in the direction of the Viscount’s chambers. After sharing a mild look of alarm, Darcy and Peterson set off after him with Elizabeth hurrying to catch up with them. After a few moments, Fitzwilliam burst into his brother’s rooms calling for his brother as he stalked about the chamber. He was met by the Viscount’s nervous valet.

“Where is your master?” Fitzwilliam bit out.

“He…he is not here, sir. I believe that he is in the green drawing room taking refreshment with the Viscountess,” the wide-eyed man stammered.

Fitzwilliam hastily exited the room to make his way to the green drawing room, as Darcy and Peterson entered.

“Please begin to pack the Viscount’s belongings as he will be leaving Pemberley this evening,” Darcy ordered the bewildered valet before following his cousin.

************

“I can’t believe that she bit you,” the Vicountess tittered as she helped herself to another pastry.

“She is practically a wild beast,” the Viscount exclaimed before downing another glass of sherry.

“Really, Gregory. Your task was a simple one. Why on earth did you have to attempt to force yourself on the girl? I am sure you have made quite a mess of things. She may be a nobody, but she is Darcy’s ward. You know how serious he is about such things. You could have at least waited until she came to town.”

The Viscount’s reply was cut off as the door to the drawing room burst open revealing an enraged Colonel Fitzwilliam with Darcy, Peterson and Elizabeth following behind.

‘My word, Richard! Have you gone quite mad?” the Viscountess exclaimed as she clutched at her breast as if frightened.

Fitzwilliam ignored her outburst as he stalked over to his brother and punched him squarely in the face.

“Pistols or swords, Gregory. What shall it be?” Fitzwilliam asked, his voice remarkably calm.

“Good god,” the Viscount replied as he recovered, gingerly rubbing his jaw. “This isn’t about that Farthington tart, is it?  A mistress is hardly worth calling out your own brother.”

Fitzwilliam flew at the Viscount, heedless of the shocked cries of the other occupants of the room. The Viscountess screamed as she watched the two men tussle.

“Elizabeth, please see the Viscountess to her chambers,” Darcy calmly requested.

“Are you not going to stop him?” the Viscountess cried disbelievingly as Elizabeth attempted to usher her from the room.

“Do not concern yourself, madam. We shan’t allow him to inflict too much damage,” Darcy replied without sparing the Viscountess a backwards glance.

Peterson and Darcy stood to the side for a time, watching Fitzwilliam repeatedly punch the Viscount in the face and stomach before deciding that both men had had enough.

“Its about bloody time,” the Viscount snarled, spitting blood as Darcy and Peterson pulled a struggling Fitzwilliam off of his prone form.

“You are lucky that I did not allow him to finish the job!” Darcy retorted.

“I warned you, Gregory,” Fitzwilliam growled as he shrugged off Darcy and Peterson’s hold on his arms. “The choice is yours: swords or pistols! Whatever your choice your chances of survival are slim.”

“You wouldn’t dare kill me! You’d hang long before you could reclaim your whore!”

Fitzwilliam quickly set upon his brother again, throwing him back against the wall and beating him ruthlessly until blood flowed freely from his nose.

“If I were you, Viscount, I would hold my tongue,” Peterson spat as they pulled Fitzwilliam back once more.

“He’s broken my damned nose,” the Viscount cried as he held his face.

“You are lucky that is all he has broken,” Darcy replied before turning towards Fitzwilliam. “Calm yourself, cousin. We both know that dueling is illegal and it will aid no one if you are hung and Ronald is made an orphan.”

Fitzwilliam shook his head as he glowered at his brother. “He must pay for what he has done.”

“Think of Mary,” Darcy reasoned. “Would you see her hurt if you are imprisoned for dueling?”

Fitzwilliam turned to look at him, his blue eyes filled with pain. “I would never hurt Mary,” he replied hoarsely.

“I know,” Darcy replied before patting his cousin on the back. “Let me handle your brother.”

“Peterson, can you see to Richard? His hand appears to be bleeding. Inform one of the footmen to send for the doctor to see to him,” Darcy requested as he gave Peterson a significant look.

“Of course. That does look like a nasty gash. You must have caught it on a tooth,” Peterson replied before leading Fitzwilliam from the room.

“I daresay that I am the one in need of a bloody doctor,” the Viscount ground out.

“Perhaps you can send for one from the inn this evening,” Darcy replied, his voice tight. “I would add to your injuries myself if Richard had not done such a thorough job for me!”

Darcy eyed his bleeding cousin with disgust before walking over to the table and retrieving a napkin.

“Here, make use of this. I’ll not have you staining the carpets. They are deuced difficult to clean,” Darcy said as he tossed the cloth at the Viscount.

“Now see here…”

“No, you see here!” Darcy shouted, cutting off the Viscount’s complaint. “You have dishonored my ward, my home and my family with your despicable actions. I do not know what you hoped to accomplish by assaulting Miss Farthington, as she is under my protection and as you can see, she is not without friends. In addition to imposing yourself upon her, you have besmirched the honor of a respectable lady.”

“You are such a hypocrite, Darcy,” the Viscount replied un-chastised by his cousin’s rebuke. “You allow my brother unfettered access to the chit yet judge me for doing the same. You and Richard were always thick as thieves. So self righteous and…”

Darcy cut off his response with another blow to his face.

“You will leave this house this instant,” Darcy ground out. “A carriage with your things will follow you in the morning. Your wife, son and Lady Letitia may remain for the duration of their stay, but you shall never darken Pemberley’s doors again. From this point on we are as strangers.”

Darcy strode to the door and called for an unmarked carriage for the Viscount and for two strong footmen to escort the Viscount to the vehicle the instant it was made ready.

Darcy turned back briefly to regard his cousin. “If I ever hear of you so much as speaking Miss Farthington’s name again, I shall finish what Richard began.”

****************

Dinner was a stilted affair. Mary took her meal in her rooms with Georgiana. The Viscount was notably absent from the meal, having been unceremoniously tossed from the house that afternoon. The Viscountess was absent from the meal as well, claiming fatigue and a headache brought on by the indignities of the day. The remainder of the party ate a near silent meal, the gentlemen still angered over the events of afternoon and Fitzwilliam so concerned about Mary’s well being that his meal remained uneaten. Lady Letitia sat silent and pale, picking at her food morosely and avoiding eye contact with the other diners. The rest of the party was grateful, finding her silence a drastic improvement over her normal loquaciousness.

Georgiana silently watched her friend listlessly consume her meal. She had refused to leave Mary’s side since that afternoon, despite Mary’s protestations that she was quite well.

“What are you thinking, Mary?” Georgiana asked after Mary had absent-mindedly poked her lamb with her fork for the umpteenth time.

“I could have avoided all of this,” Mary replied after a pause. “Had I not plotted with Beatrice to ride unattended with Fitzwilliam, I would not have been alone when the Viscount climbed into the carriage. Had Beatrice been there, I am sure he would not have attempted such a thing.”

“You are not to blame,” Georgiana replied fiercely. “The blame is entirely Gregory’s. He is the one that attacked you, Mary.”

“But it is my fault that he had the opportunity.”

Georgiana regarded her friend silently for a moment. “May I tell you a story, Mary?”

Mary looked up at her friend incredulously. “I am afraid that I would make a poor audience, Georgiana. I am in no mood for stories.”

“I promise you that you’ll want to hear this one. It is a true story about a girl that was in a situation not quite so different from your own.”

At Mary’s nod of acquiescence, Georgiana began her tale.

“There was once a young girl a few years younger than you are now. She was a very proper girl, well bred and polite. She was also very wealthy. The young girl was raised by her brother, whom she dutifully obeyed. However, one day the young girl was not so obedient. You see, a very handsome man who had always been kind to her professed himself to be very much in love. He bade the young girl to keep their love secret because her brother would not approve because he was very poor. The young girl, believing her love to be true, agreed.

“One day the handsome man asked her to elope with him, reasoning that her brother would understand once they were married. The girl was hesitant, but again she agreed. The day that they planned to run away together, the brother surprised the young girl with a visit. Unable to keep such a secret much longer, the young girl told her brother all. He was furious with the handsome man and they argued. The young girl learned that the handsome man did not love her but only wanted to marry her for her fortune.

“For many years the young girl blamed herself for what had happened. If she had not been so foolish or if she had examined the handsome man’s actions rather than his words, she would have been nearly ruined. Then one day she learned how the handsome man had lied to another young girl and lured her away from her family and her home ruining her. Then the young girl realized that she was not to blame. The handsome man alone was to blame for his actions. He was an evil man who had shown that he would act in such a barbarous way again and again.”

Mary regarded her friend, who sat looking off into the distance, her jaw taut. Mary quit her seat and sat on the settee next to her friend. Georgiana turned and gave her a rueful smile.

“I wasted so much time being miserable and blaming myself for the sins that Wickham had committed against me and my brother until I came to realize that his actions had very little to do with me. I was but a means to an end and if it had not been me, he would have imposed upon another girl as he later did.”

Georgiana pressed Mary’s hand with her own before leaning her head to the side to rest on Mary’s own.

“Please do not make a similar mistake. Gregory is not worth your wretchedness.”

Georgiana hugged her friend before leaving. Mary sat thinking about all that Georgiana had said. She knew that she was right. There was no good to be had in blaming herself for the Viscount’s actions or for Fitzwilliam’s. While Georgiana had thought to comfort Mary by sharing such a personal story, Mary could not help but to ponder handsome men and their pretty words and lack of action.

*******************

Fitzwilliam excused himself from the company soon after the conclusion of the meal. He was in no mood for card games or billiards even if the atmosphere of the drawing room had been more conducive to such amusements. He made for the privacy of his rooms, but instead found himself outside of Mary’s chambers starring fixedly at the doors as if he could will them to be transparent. The house party had been frustrating in that he seldom had an opportunity to be alone in Mary’s company. He longed to hold her against his chest so as to ensure himself that she was well and to beg her forgiveness for failing to protect her. His brother’s accusations and Lady Letitia’s scornful words troubled him. The idea that Mary would stoop so low as to be anyone’s mistress was laughable, but he knew that in society’s eyes, the appearance of evil was far worse than its actual existence.

He wondered if his own actions had colored his brother’s perception of Mary. He had played the part of fiancé without the title. If they had been betrothed, she would have been protected from such accusations. He could have told his brother plainly that Mary was his intended and under his protection. Were it within his own power, he and Mary would have been engaged. And were he a different man, they would have long been off to Gretna Green to be made husband and wife despite Darcy’s objections. However, he would never disgrace Mary with an elopement.

Fitzwilliam was shaken from his contemplation by the approach of his cousin Darcy. He regarded his cousin wearily, leaning next to him against the wall and making no attempt to explain his presence there.

“Do not worry, Richard. She will be well,” Darcy said as he came to lean against the wall beside him. “Mary is a brave girl. She will recover.”

“I know,” Richard replied in a low tone. “I wish that I could comfort her all the same. I should have been there to protect her.”

A long silence stretched between the two men as they both looked off into the distance unseeing.

“I have been thinking about your desire to ask for Mary,” Darcy began after a time. “While I still worry for Mary’s reception by our family and by the ton, especially after the events of the past few days, I know that you would protect her with your life. I can see that you love her deeply, perhaps even as fiercely as I love Elizabeth.”

“I do,” Fitzwilliam replied brokenly.

“Then I grant you permission to ask for Mary’s hand,” Darcy said, turning to face his cousin for the first time. “If she will have you, then you have my blessing.”

Fitzwilliam regarded his cousin in mute shock for a few moments before a broad smile broke out over his tired features.

“Cousin, you do not know how happy you have made me!” Fitzwilliam exclaimed as he caught up Darcy in a fierce hug.

“I can imagine,” Darcy laughed as he clapped his cousin on the back.

“I shall ask her this moment,” Fitzwilliam declared once he released his cousin.

“No, let the girl rest,” Darcy replied, a small grin gracing his lips. “There will be plenty of time to make your suit tomorrow. I find that privacy is astonishingly easy to find when the house is packed to the gills during a ball.”

“You are right of course,” Fitzwilliam said with a smile. “Thank you cousin.”

Fitzwilliam hugged Darcy again, causing the man to chuckle wryly.

“If I had known this would have been your reaction, I would have informed you by letter!”

Darcy clapped his cousin on the back before bidding him a good sleep and pleasant dreams.

“They shall be quite pleasant,” Fitzwilliam said to himself as he turned to look at Mary’s door once more. “Very pleasant indeed.”

*********************

The Viscountess sat in her chambers comforting a weeping Lady Letitia.

“Everything is positively ruined,” Letitia sobbed. “The Colonel shall never ask for me now and I have your lecherous husband to thank.”

The Viscountess glared at her cousin. “Oh, stop your sniveling. If you had taken my advice and not abused Miss Farthington to his face then perhaps your chances would not look so bleak. But, no, you can never manage to control that fishwife’s mouth of yours!”

Lady Letitia spluttered indignantly before dissolving into another wave of dramatic sobs.

The Viscountess rose and paced the room in agitation.

“I cannot believe that he tossed Gregory from the house or that Darcy allowed the Colonel to beat him so ruthlessly. Why, his right eye was almost swollen shut! He shall not be fit to be seen for weeks. Gregory will be very much mistaken is he thinks that I shall miss out on entertainments staying home to nurse his split lip, foolish man!”

“I don’t give a two figs about Gregory’s swollen eye,” Letitia declared as she beat her fists petulantly against a cushion. “I have been made a laughing stock and will die an old maid!”

The Viscountess ignored her cousin’s complaints as she paced the room deep in thought. There had to be some way to salvage the situation and regain some of her dignity.

“Perhaps things are not so hopeless as you think, Letitia,” the Viscountess began, a calculating smile spreading over her lips. “If you hush your sniveling and do as I say then you may yet have your colonel, whether he likes it or not.”