“That is not what I was asking, Darcy. Wickham is dispatched, and if I have anything to do with it, Mrs Younge will be imprisoned on charges of ‘lewd conduct’ for her part in kidnapping Miss Lydia. Your fair lady and her family are safe.”
Darcy refused to look at his cousin. “She is not ‘my fair lady,’ and never can be.”
“What, because of your misguided sense of righteousness? To the world, she is Elizabeth Wickham, a handsome young widow in possession of a neighbouring estate whose mourning is soon to come to an end.”
“And to me, she is the widow of my mother’s son, and the property she holds ought never to belong to the Darcy name on the grounds of decency and honour.”
Richard snorted. “I suppose you would have to work out your qualms about the property, but the bit about her being your brother’s widow is a ridiculous law. Bernard is dead, for pity’s sake, and that makes her no more your sister than I am. Moreover, she was never truly his wife, was she?”
Darcy’s hands were rigid on the reins as he gritted his teeth and stared at the road. “Not in the way you mean, but in the eyes of the law she was.”
“And in the eyes of the law, Bernard was not your brother. Come, Darcy, you cannot hide behind legal proceedings in one instance and not the other. I know bloody well that you fancy the woman. You can scarce tear your eyes from her, and she was nearly green with envy when I dropped a hint that you might marry—I let her believe you meant to wed my sister.”
Darcy turned slowly. “She was?” He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “No, she could not have been. She informed me often… She was? Truly?”
“Green as grass, and almost ill to her stomach if I am any judge. You cannot truly confess now that you would stand on a flimsy excuse when the woman you admire returns your feelings, would you?”
Darcy’s brow was sweating despite the chill air, and all his muscles were quivering. “That would be insupportable,” he breathed.
“Oh,mysweetestchild!My dearest Lydia, how silly of you to fall ill when you were out walking,” Mrs Bennet scolded her youngest. “Why, you look well enough to me, but you always did mend the fastest of anyone. How clever of Mr Darcy to let you recover in a neighbour’s home, so you needn’t have endured a cold ride when you were ill. Millie, some hot bricks for Miss Lydia’s bed, and an extra cup of tea for Mr Darcy!”
Darcy shook his head as he backed from the room. “That will not be necessary, Mrs Bennet. I only came to see that Miss Lydia was recovering from her ordeal.”
The girl herself raised a sullen pout to Darcy. She still smelt of a poultry house, but not a hair had been ruffled on her head, save for what she had done herself when Bingley had tried to pull her from Jameson’s shed where she and Mrs Younge had been hiding. Her mouth opened to make some ill-tempered retort, but Darcy saw Elizabeth’s chin lift and her eyes flash in warning to the younger girl. Miss Lydia frowned and mumbled a half-hearted gratitude.
“Think nothing of it,” he replied. “Oh, Mrs Wickham, did I mention to you that I had the name of an excellent young lady’s academy in Devonshire? The headmistress’s letter assured me that she enforces the strictest order. I understand that the young ladies there spend four hours each day memorising Fordyce, four at their needlework or the pianoforte and the remaining four exercising humility by boiling the linens and scrubbing the floors.”
Elizabeth slitted her eyes at him, as if trying to determine whether he was in earnest.
“Of course,” he continued, “young ladies of good character and honourable station may be more comfortable remaining with their families under the instruction of a private tutor. I say, Mrs Wickham, my sister has been planning a trip to Town soon to be fitted for a winter wardrobe. She most particularly wished for one or two of your sisters to accompany her—if you have determined they have need of ball gowns, that is.”
A curl appeared at the corners of Elizabeth’s mouth. “We will consider these things, Mr Darcy. Lydia, dear, you look dreadfully pale! You ought to be in bed recovering, as the apothecary has said.”
The girl was still staring gap-mouthed at Darcy but collected herself without a word and with little reluctance when her mother draped a heavy cloak round her shoulders and bundled her off up the stairs.
Elizabeth sighed as her mother and sister left. “I appreciate your threats and bribery, sir. Time will tell if Lydia heeds the warning not to speak another word of Mr Wickham. I have cautioned her, and so has Jane, but she seems not to understand the gravity of her error or the character of the man in whom she trusted.”
“I have no doubts that you will prove the more obstinate and determined of the two of you.” For the first time, Darcy let his gaze rest on her with unconcealed tenderness. “I will, of course, aid you in any way possible.”
“First—” She turned up to him with an earnest look and stopped just short of touching his forearm. “I wish to know the truth of what happened—how you discovered her, and where Mr Wickham is.”
He held out his hand towards the door. “If you will permit me to escort you on a short walk?”
She nodded and caught her shawl from a hook. He held the door for her, and then extended his elbow for her to take. She looked up at him doubtfully, but with a small smile she wove her arm through his.
“It is Richard and Bingley you have to thank for discovering her whereabouts. It seems that Mrs Younge had only appeared to leave the area, for she was securing the door of the poultry house when they arrived. After finding your sister safe, Richard met me as I was departing the inn with Wickham. A challenge was issued, fought, and Wickham has pledged on his rather dubious honour to join the Regulars.”
She shivered, and he paused to adjust the wrap over her shoulders. “Do you think he will do it?”
“I think he would rather take his chances with Bonaparte’s cannons than Richard’s blade. Yes, I believe he will. I also believe we will not see ‘Mrs Godfrey’ again, as she can no longer expect anything from her son. I spoke with her brother Jameson at the inn after your sister was found in his poultry shed, and he was outraged that she had deceived and used him so badly. He has washed his hands of her and sent her away to some distant aunt.”
“Then that is the end of it.” She was gazing distantly over the fields, then turned her eyes back up to him. “And there is no longer any question of the disposition of Corbett Lodge?”
“None. It is yours for as long as you choose to live in it.”
“Then I intend to give it to my mother. I cannot—I do not wish to call it my own. I hope that does not make me ungrateful.”
He watched her profile in the fading light, but she held fixedly, not looking at him. “The decision is yours, but it is a wise one. I will assist with any legal matters you require.”
