“I believe they have him safely stabled at Rosings.” After a breath, she said, “In truth, I feared you had been descended upon by horse thieves.” Her voice shook at the possibility. “Jane has said a gypsy camp has set up on the other end of the village. What iftheyaccosted you?”
He grinned. “It is not common practice for gypsies to accost a gentleman. They are well aware of the repercussionstoward harming a person such as myself.Andmy purse and watch were still found on my person.” He rubbed his chin, glancing at her. “No, I believe it might be happenstance which will never have a solution.”
“As long as you are well, sir…”
“Yes, I am well.”
“Then I believe you have the right of it.”
“Yes. Let us occupy our mind with more pleasant topics.”
And they did. He asked her about her family and home, her favorite music and plays, and they found they had similar interests and ideas. It was when they were almost returned to the parsonage when he posed a surprising question.
“Pray. What do you know of Mrs. Wickham? She seems a woman of tender age.” His tone bespoke a tension she could not place
“She is a sweet young lady,” Elizabeth said, observing the groundsmen at Rosings raking the gravel. “She has a kind heart and is extremely reserved.”
“Quite. She seemed reticent in company at the parsonage.”
“Yes. But, in the company of us ladies, sheis much more talkative.”
“Pardon me for saying so, but she seems quite young to be married and the mistress of such a large estate.”
Elizabeth looked at him sharply, then eased. “That’s right. You were schoolmates with Mr. Wickham at Cambridge. That must be how you know of Pemberley.”
“Everyone is aware of other’s estates and holdings while at university. It is how one makes connections and alliances—lends to the pecking order, I suppose. And, if I remember correctly, Mr. Wickham’s father was not gentry. Am I mistaken in that he was the steward of Mr. Darcy’s estates?”
“From what I understand, that is correct.”
“I do not remember him being so elevated as to marry someone of Mrs. Wickham’s standing and I am intrigued by his fortuitous match.”
They had been making their way past the pond, and Elizabeth took a moment to choose her words carefully. She brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. “It is not my place to say, sir, but as you are acquainted with him, I will divulge what little I know. Several years ago, Mrs. Darcy died giving birth to a son, after which Mr. Darcy became unwell, pining the loss of his wife. Eventually, he too deteriorated and passed a little over a year ago. In his will, he left my friend into the care of her uncle, the Earl of Matlock.”
That recently?She noticed the muscles in Mr. Fitzroy’s jaw tighten before he asked quietly, “And the earl approved of her marriage to the steward’s son?”
She looked at him with a raised brow, surprised at his direct enquiry. “As I understand from Mrs. Wickham herself, her husband was a favorite of her father’s and close friends with her cousin, Viscount Wenton.”
“And Richard? Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Her cousin. Alfred’s younger brother. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”
“I have no knowledge of that gentleman, sir. Mrs. Wickham has never spoken of him.”
His brow furrowed, and then he pressed on. “And what of the uncle, the earl?”
“I understood Mr. Wickham and the earl have since had a falling out. But I know no more of the particulars.”
He breathed deeply before he asked, “And is she happy?”
Elizabeth was taken aback by his presumption, and Darcy appeared to check himself. “I apologize, Miss Bennet, for my impertinence. It is just that I saw so little joy in Mrs. Wickham’s countenance.”
“Oh, but Mrs. Wickham has great compassion and emotion…that is hidden in company. She has become a friend these last weeks of our acquaintance, and I am grateful our paths have crossed.”
“Yes. I am certain you would treat her as one of your own sisters. The kindness and patience you give to your younger three does you credit.”
Elizabeth stopped walking and faced him, an unease bordering on agitation flowing through her. “Mr. Fitzroy. I am still unclear how you know of my sisters, yet you cannot seem to remember parts of your own life. This is highly irregular.”
