Elizabeth paled, setting her cup on the saucer with a clatter. Darcy straightened, his feet finding their place on the floor in preparation to step to her side. Chiding himself, he stilled. She had made it abundantly clear that she did not care for his interference. Elizabeth’s face was a mask of disappointment and disbelief. “Lydia… it cannot be true. Charlotte? It is not possible!”
“Aye, but… Oh, dear! I wasn’t to tell you! She wanted to make him wait so she could tell you herself, but Mr Collins was so dull, it was all he would talk of, even if me and Kitty were there—that and the fireplaces at Rosings Park. It is so plain that Charlotte could not give two straws about him, but she is quite satisfied, I daresay, for she will live here at Longbourn one day!” Lydia chortled giddily.
Mrs Bennet gave a cry of dismay, fluttering her laced handkerchief before her face. “Oh, do not speak of that odious man! Charlotte Lucas to live here! To think that I shall have to make way for the likes of her. Those Lucases are all out for what they can get! Thank heavens, dear Lizzy, you are so well settled, or I should not know what would become of us all!”
Elizabeth hid her face in shame, unable to stop herself from peeking through her fingers at Darcy’s reddened face. She could never marry him, and after such arguments as they had had, he surely felt the same about her! What was she to do?
“Oh la, she will have to put up with Mr Collins first, Mama. He is so tiresome! He would prattle on all day, but we were so bored we decided to come home, though we were invited to stay to tea. There was nothing interesting to be had, except Mr Wickham came by, and he wanted to see us home, but we told him that Mr Darcy was here, and he said he oughtn’t come by… Oh, I wasn’t to tell you that either! What did I tell you, Kitty? She is speechless. Why—Miss Darcy!”
Oblivious as Lydia was, no one could miss Georgiana’s sudden shock. She paled, shook, and her cup rattled off the saucer to the floor. Desperate eyes sought her brother, trembling hands took his, and she began to sob.
Mrs Bennet wailed, fearful her distinguished guest had suffered a fit of apoplexy. “Hill! The smelling salts, quickly!” She ruffled her shawl, waving her hands in distress.
Heedless of the splattered tea, Elizabeth dropped on the floor before Georgiana. She met Darcy’s eyes, and for a moment, a mutual understanding passed between them. Their argument faded in the light of the girl’s white face. “I must take her for some air,” whispered Darcy urgently.
Elizabeth nodded, numb. What could have shaken her young friend so? Glancing through the drenched windowpane at the steady downpour out of doors, she looked back to Darcy. “Follow me. I will show you somewhere private.”
Ignoring her mother’s dramatic reactions to both the news of Charlotte’s engagement and Georgiana’s “case of the vapours,” Elizabeth stood quickly. Helping the girl to her feet, Elizabeth led them to the library with Georgiana supported on her shoulder. Darcy had his arm around his sister, lending his strength. Elizabeth blushed fiercely when she realized their arms were laced together, forming a web of comfort for the forlorn girl. She glanced quickly to Darcy, but his concern at the moment was all for Georgiana.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had jumped to his feet at Georgiana’s initial reaction, shrewdly resumed his seat. He sat poised at the edge of the chair, but his well-practiced command regained control of his limbs. Best to let Darcy and Elizabeth find some common ground in comforting Georgiana. Meanwhile, he saw no harm in pumping the youngest loudmouthed Bennet girl for some information about Wickham.
Elizabethclosedthedoorto her father’s library while Darcy eased Georgiana into a chair. Helplessly, she watched brother try to comfort sister, wondering if she should remain or go. He looked to her then with pleading eyes, and she nodded her understanding. She took her place to the girl’s other side. Blonde curls tangled wetly on her cheeks. Darcy took Georgiana’s hands in his own while Elizabeth soothingly stroked her hair and cradled the girl’s head against her shoulder.
“William,” she trembled, “is it true? Is… that man… really here?” Georgiana bit her quivering lips. Elizabeth looked questioningly to Darcy.
He glanced to her, then looked back to Georgiana. “I am afraid so, Sweetling. He will not come near you, I promise. I am here. He cannot hurt you.”
Georgiana began to heave, great racking breaths, turning her face into Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I th-th-thought he w-w-was g-g-gone!” she wailed.
Elizabeth and Darcy held a silent communication. She was utterly shocked but ready to do anything to help her young friend. Darcy’s face betrayed his regret and begged her assistance. Wordlessly he conveyed his need to simply console Georgiana, without further discussion about the man in question. They sat with her, Elizabeth rocking her comfortingly while she clung to her brother’s hands.
Gradually her tears gave out, and she sagged exhausted against Elizabeth. She put her hand to her forehead, a sign recognizable to Elizabeth as the onset of a headache. Elizabeth turned the girl’s face gently to her. “Georgie, do you want to rest a while? I will take you to my room, and you can lie down.” Georgiana miserably nodded her assent.
Elizabeth glanced to Darcy—another soundless understanding passed between them. He would wait for her in the library. There was much explaining to be done.
Darcypacedthesmalllibrary anxiously. The next conversation with Elizabeth could well clinch her pronounced dislike of him, or it could be the turning point toward a better understanding. He prayed fervently for the latter.
This most recent demonstration of Elizabeth’s loyalty had only intensified his need to win her affections. If she would so staunchly stand by a girl of a mere afternoon’s acquaintance, what a faithful, devoted heart could belong to the man bestowed with such a gift! She so fiercely defended a worthless scoundrel because she believed him to be wronged; how much more would she unwaveringly support a just man if she knew him to be such? His fingers fisted and flexed impatiently. He closed his eyes and soothed himself with an old proverb taught to him in boyhood.A gentle answer turneth away wrath.
With a barely audible click, she entered the room behind him. Her face was sober, her hands clasped lightly in front of her. Elizabeth recognized for the first time that day the pronounced fatigue lining his eyes and felt compassion. “Will you sit?” she offered softly.
He nodded, relieved. Elizabeth chose her father’s padded chair, and he drew another near. Elizabeth levelled her gaze at him, but this time without rancour. “Tell me,” she asked with open frankness, “what happened to Georgiana with Mr Wickham.”
He had not expected her to be so forthright, or so meek. He let out a long breath, many of his fears assuaged. Expecting her to lead with bitter accusations, he took a moment to defuse the defences he had rallied and gather his thoughts. Reflecting on the letter still secreted in his waistcoat, he slowly pieced together events as he had related them there, leaving out the resentfulness of his hurts from the day before. If she could speak gently, he could as well.
“Mr Wickham was the son of my late father’s steward, a Mr James Wickham. Mr Wickham senior was a capable, honourable man, and my father trusted in him. My own father was fond of the son, and as boys we grew up together.”
Elizabeth acknowledged this information with a small nod. This much, she had heard from Wickham himself.
Darcy slowly went on. “My father was the very best of men, Miss Bennet. He pledged on his honour his support of George Wickham to his friend. Though a year older, George came to Cambridge the same year as I. He became popular with many very quickly, as his manners were always engaging. Unfortunately, once away from the guiding influence of both of our fathers, George’s habits quickly became dissolute. I shall not share the details—there are many things a lady ought not to hear.” His eyes darted to hers self-consciously, but her gaze remained locked on his face in earnest attendance. His lips tightened as he sought what to relate next.
“Mr Wickham senior passed away the year we finished school, not long at all before my own father. Thus, within a relatively short span of time, we both found ourselves orphans. This all occurred nearly five years ago, Miss Bennet. My father had provided for George in his will by making the living of Kympton available to him upon the decease of the rector at the time, a Mr Tate.
“The living, however, was contingent upon George Wickham proving himself willing to take orders and show himself worthy of the post. You must know,” he said with a brief sigh, “that the choice of a rector for the parish is one of the most important ones an estate owner must make. A good man can inspire the entire being of the parishioners, bringing light and salt to a whole village, whereas a poor one can increase the misery of all.” Elizabeth was reminded ruefully of her cousin. How unfortunate the souls dependent uponthatman for guidance!
“I knew that Wickham ought not to enter the church,” Darcy continued, “but I would have been honour bound to provide such a living had he shown himself willing. Much to my relief, he did not. He announced to me his intentions of never taking orders and rather to enter the study of law. He requested instead the value of his allotted inheritance, which was equivalent to approximately three thousand pounds. The money was paid at once, and Mr Wickham went to London. I did not follow his activities there. However, I can state with authority that he never entered law school.”
Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Darcy’s story agreed too closely with Wickham’s for either to be an outright lie, but Wickham had left out some crucial details. Darcy’s earnest manner, his serious eyes which steadily held her own without jest or lightness, made her deeply question her previous assessment of the man.
