“I do not know that I can even call it a conversation,” she said. “I was a most unwilling participant, I assure you, but I had the impression he had information he wished to convey, and nothing would stop him.”
“You must wonder whether any part of it is true,” he said, keeping his gaze forwards, despite being tempted to glance at her. She walked beside him, and he was nervous that he might see suspicion in her eyes, but the tone of her voice gave him reason to hope she felt none.
“I suppose I am curious what the basis for his tales is. I donotbelieve you are a reprobate, as he was clearly suggesting, but do not exaggerations or lies often begin with some element of truth, some little thing the teller bends and twists to suit their purposes?”
Darcy shrugged. “From what I can discern, the only truthful elements are that we have known each other allour lives and were raised in Derbyshire. My father, who was his godfather, was fond of him, I admit. Wickham’s own father was Pemberley’s steward. He was an excellent man, and I know that my father believed George would grow up to be just like him.” He had once expected the same, and disappointment at what had happened momentarily robbed him of speech.
Miss Elizabeth touched his arm and said, “But he did not?”
Shaking his head, Darcy went on. “My father never saw the signs that father and son were as different as could be, though I did. I was never jealous of George. If anything, hewas jealous of me, of my position in life and especially my wealth. I have often thought that the differences between us and what that meant for our futures became more apparent to him as we went through adolescence, and with it, he grew to despise me. My father found him amusing and took an interest in him. He provided Wickham with an education and promised him a valuable living if he chose to go into the church. It is completely untrue that my father liked him more than me. My fatherlikedhim, but helovedme. It was me that he taught to ride and fish and shoot, me he took with him wherever he went, and for whom he bought the finest gifts. Confided in and sought comfort from during his final illness.”
He fell silent, remembering those difficult months. Miss Elizabeth slipped her arm around his. She must have sensed that he would find it more soothing than words, and he appreciated her quiet support.
After a brief pause, he continued. “My father and Itravelled during the brief period it was safe, almost a decade ago now, and when we returned, I saw at once how Wickham had changed. He had made new friends in my absence, ones that encouraged him to…live a more dissolute life, which he was able to keep hidden from our fathers. He was enraged by the terms of my father’s will—chiefly that he had only been left one thousand pounds rather than the thousands he apparently feels were his due.” He went on to tell her that Wickham had disclaimed any interest in the church and had been paid three thousand pounds in place of the living.
“So much money!” she cried. “He told me he was poor. How can he now have nothing?”
Darcy could only shrug again. “Living beyond his means, and I understand he is excessively fond of gambling. He has a tendency to leave debts behind him wherever he goes.” He would have to ensure the local shopkeepers knew not to give Wickham credit—and to protect their daughters from him. “I am sorry. I have perhaps said too much. I do not wish to distress you.”
“You need have no concern for me. I can see it distressesyouto recall it. I wish I had discouraged you from doing so.”
He ran a hand over his face, accidentally knocking his hat from his head. As soon as he stopped to pick it up, Budge lay down and rested his head between his paws.
Miss Elizabeth giggled. “He is a silly thing. Adorable but silly. Shall we let him rest?” She gestured to a large rock at the side of the path that was in the sun, and when he nodded, they sat.
Neither of them spoke for a while, and he found thequietness peaceful; it was only disrupted by Budge’s soft snores and the rustling of wind through the trees. The strength of his wish to tell her everything surprised him. Did he trust her enough? When the words poured from his mouth and he explained what had happened at Ramsgate the previous summer, he had his answer: he did.
Her shock was everything he knew it would be—as was her anxiety for Georgiana. “Your poor, poor sister. How she must have suffered. She was only fifteen? That is Lydia’s age! I pray she is well now, though if you say she remains affected, I would not be surprised.”
“She is doing well, quite well, from what my aunt tells me. My sister is staying in the country with my mother’s brother and his wife. One of their sons is Georgiana’s other guardian. There are times I believe I have taken Wickham’s betrayal to heart more than she has. But wewerefriends. I believed we always would be. I rejoiced when my father spoke of reserving the Kympton living for Wickham because it is so close to Pemberley. He and I would always live near to one another. There would be no impediment to our friendship, our children would grow up together as he and I had…” He sighed heavily. “Instead, he became a man I could not like or respect, one that I would wish never to see again—and that wasbeforehe attempted to use my sister to revenge himself on me.”
“And this all happened just weeks before you came to Netherfield,” she said gently.
Darcy turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. “Please do not excuse how I acted then. It is true I was in a foul mood. Even Bingley noticed it. I believe he said I was insufferable, or he might only have implied it. I was angry and betrayed, partly because I could do nothing about what had happened. Which authority could I tell that would have made a difference, that would stop Wickham from treating another young lady as he had my sister, or injuring some other man who had considered him a friend? What could I do that would not risk Georgiana’s reputation?”
“Those are questions to which I do not have answers, but I do not believe you expect me to. Very well, Mr Darcy, I shall not excuse you. Indeed, I did not intend to, but it does provide an explanation, especially when added to knowing you overheard people speculating about you, which you have said you hate, as most people would.”
They remained where they were a while longer. Darcy almost told her about the ball Bingley had decided to hold and requested that she reserve a set for him, but he should first ask Mr Bennet for his permission. It was ridiculous to do so for a dance, but it would show the older gentleman respect that he might appreciate, given their unusual situation. Mr Bennet must have seen him and Miss Elizabeth speaking at Haye-Park during the recent card party, but that did not mean he would approve of them standing up together for half an hour. Bingley was planning to go to Longbourn that afternoon to deliver the invitation to the ball, and Darcy determined that he would go with him. He would speak toMr Bennet about Wickham and the ball, and, if granted permission—as he expected he would be—he would ask her then.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
During the brief moment Bennet had between being told that Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were at Longbourn and them actually entering the drawing room, he had decided to keep his attention on the latter to study how he and Jane were together. It might soon be time to have a serious discussion with the young man, and he supposed he ought to speak to Jane as well to discover what her feelings were. His eldest daughter was a sweet, gentle person, and Bennet believed he saw signs that she was falling in love with Mr Bingley. Given her nature, she would suffer greatly, and for a long while, if he did not return her regard. What sort of father would treat that possibility lightly?
When Mr Bingley announced that he had brought an invitation to a ball at Netherfield, Bennet almost wished he was elsewhere. How could the ladies be anything other than thrilled, and in that enthusiasm, excessively loud? It left him feeling as if knives were piercing his eardrums.
“A ball? Did you hear that, girls?” Mrs Bennet said. It was hardly necessary; all five of them were already talking about it. Lydia and Kitty were demanding answers to various questions about the arrangements and who else would be invited—such as the officers, who interested them far too much for Bennet’s liking—Mary and Lizzy had their heads bent together, Lizzy’s bright and eager expression radiating how pleased she was at the prospect of a private ball, and Jane was once again showing her value by managing to listen to her mother while also attempting to calm Lydia and Kitty and smile at Mr Bingley and thank him for the invitation.
“Sir, I wonder whether I might speak to you alone.”
He startled and turned to see that the quiet voice belonged to Mr Darcy, who stood beside him. Bennet nodded and led the way to his book-room.
“Please, sit.” Bennet gestured to an armchair. “Would you care for a drink?”
“I would, thank you. I am afraid that what I have to tell you is unpleasant. A subject I would rather avoid.”
“And some strong wine would help,” Bennet stated. Studying the younger man, he saw obvious signs of strain—shoulders slightly slumped and a heaviness about his eyes. Handing him a glass and choosing a chair near him rather than across his desk, Bennet added, “I cannot imagine what has happened, but if there is anything I can do to be of assistance, I shall try. I hope it is not bad news from your family.”
“No, no.” Mr Darcy shook his head and took a sip of wine. “It is about one of the new officers. I happened tosee him in Meryton the other day, standing with your daughters. Mr Wickham. You see, he is known to me.”
