Page 59 of The Widower of Pemberley

“He had no choice,” Elizabeth said sharply.

“He had a choice,” Jane said in her clear, sweet voice. “But I am afeard that he made the wrong one. Poor Mr. Wickham. I heard his terror in his words—he does not want to die. I shall think very ill of Mr. Darcy if he kills the man.”

This statement rather surprised Elizabeth as she was used to thinking of her sister as a person who never judged anyone—even those who deserved that judgment. And Mr. Darcy would act as any honourable man ought if he killed him.

“You are right,” Mr. Bingley said. “He should not shoot Mr. Wickham. I was shocked to hear Darcy speak with such violence. But he was greatly affected by Mrs. Darcy—I cannot judge him so harshly. Poor man. He has always been so kind to me. The best of friends. Miss Bennet, you must not think so ill of him. It is a tragedy, but he is not bad.”

“He has a choice,” Jane repeated.

The door opened, and Mr. Darcy entered carrying a fine leather document case in one hand and Emily in the other. The girl’s face was red, and the tracks of tears lined her cheeks.

Jane spoke in a voice that could be easily heard by all the occupants of the room, perhaps not realising that Mr. Darcy had joined them—or perhaps wishing him to hear. “He can choose to do what God and religion and kindness and his true duty demand, or he can do what pride of place and fear of society’s scorn ask of him. And I fear very much that he will make the wrong choice.”

Mr. Darcy regarded her solemnly.

Emily squirmed to be put down, shouting, “Miss Lizzy! Miss Lizzy!” She ran over to Elizabeth, who embraced her and picked her up.

“What will happen?” Elizabeth asked, the girl in her arms, suddenly fearing that the duel might lead to Mr. Darcy being the one killed. “Lord, what will happen?”

“You need not fret about what will come if the worst should befall me,” Mr. Darcy said. “But before I say anything else, you must satisfy me on this point: What wasthatman doing in your house? Why did you permit him to speak to my sister? And why were you in private conference with him when I arrived? These are all situations that I imagine you would have contrived to hide from me if I had not had the good fortune to arrive earlier than expected.”

Elizabeth’s temper rose at the accusation in his queries.

She pressed her lips together.

He had a right to be suspicious. It was her place to reassure him. She must not become angry.

Yet Elizabeth keenly perceived the injustice of his questioning when she had been in the process of throwing the officer from the house when Mr. Darcy had found them in the hall. But if she told him that was what she had been doing, it was likely to only increase his suspicion yet further.

Mr. Bingley exclaimed, “Darcy, that is hardly fair to Miss Elizabeth! I also did not realise that you would wish me to keep Miss Darcy from conversation with him. I knew that you were not fond of him, but I had heard nothing of this enmity.”

“Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy insisted, “answer me. What is your connection to Mr. Wickham? I hardly believe that he is here by coincidence.”

She remained silent, both upset and trying to decide how to explain the matter to her future husband in a way that would satisfy him.

“Answer me. I shall give you no further time to contemplate a sweet lie.”

“Oh, then, of course,” Elizabeth replied sarcastically, unable to repress her temper. “I called my old friend Mr. Wickham here so that he could convince your sister to elope with him. And it would have worked, too, if only you had not arrived unexpectedly. How shrewd of you to deduce our scheme from such thin evidence. And yes, I must not forget to inform you, we have been lovers these fifteen years.”

“Do not jest. My suspicion is reasonable. It is right and it is necessary. Given what I have suffered, surely you must admit the justice of my concern.”

With his tired manner, her father watched the whole from the chair in which Elizabeth had placed him. “Justice is not—” he began to say, but he then lapsed into silence.

“By Jove!” Bingley exclaimed. “Darcy, you have changed.”

That seemed to strike the man. But he then said solemnly, “I have been made wise. To my great cost.”

“You must learn to trust,” Jane said. “You will cause great unhappiness in yourself, and in those close to you, if you do not. Even if many are unworthy of your trust, I beg you to think the best of all the world. Else think upon what your life will be if you cannot.”

“That is most easy for you to say,” Mr. Darcy said harshly, “when you will be one of the principal beneficiaries should I be trusting at present.”

Elizabeth felt something hollow and awful in her stomach.

Jane’s pockmarked face looked with clouded eyes for some time towards where Mr. Darcy stood, then she said, looking in Elizabeth’s general direction, “Lizzy, I had meant to say nothing more on the subject, but I beg you to remember what I told you.”

Elizabeth knew what Jane meant.

She meant that she should not marry Mr. Darcy.