Page 166 of A Question of Character

“Mr. Wickham,” he said, “can you account for yourself on the dates named?”

“Yes, sir. I can provide the name of my lodging in Surrey and the gentleman with whom I studied during that period. Mr. Philips also knows when I entered Hertfordshire.”

“Good. Then we shall write.”

“I had intended to do so myself, but I thought it wiser not to answer such a matter without guidance.”

“That is sensible.”

Lydia exhaled in relief, as if her father’s approval were already proof enough to overturn every accusation in England.

Mr. Bennet folded the paper. “Leave this with me. I shall speak with Philips. Until we have an answer, you will neither pay nor protest too loudly. A man who shouts innocence before he is accused in public may persuade fools that he fears something.”

Wickham bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

Mrs. Bennet declared Mr. Bennet the wisest man in the county, which made him look briefly pained. Mary observed that truth, though pressed to earth, would rise, provided one did not bury it beneath imprudent speech. Kitty said she did not understand why anyone would want forty-three pounds of wine, and Lydia looked ready to defend Wickham against every innkeeper on the coast.

Elizabeth sat very still.

Darcy arrived before the conversation had recovered.

Hill announced him, and the change in the room was immediate. Lydia stiffened. Wickham’s hand closed around the back of a chair. Jane gave Elizabeth a pleading glance, though whether for calm, charity, or sense, Elizabeth could not tell.

Darcy stopped just within the doorway.

His eyes moved from Elizabeth to Wickham, then to the paper in Mr. Bennet’s hand.

No one spoke.

Elizabeth rose.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said, “you have come at a difficult moment.”

His face altered, caution replacing whatever greeting he had prepared. “So I gather.”

Mr. Bennet held up the folded bill. “Indeed. We have just received an interesting document concerning Ramsgate.”

Darcy’s gaze sharpened.

Wickham’s face remained pale but controlled. “A bill has been sent to Mr. Philips’s office in my name.”

“For a debt allegedly accrued in Ramsgate,” Elizabeth added. “In June.”

Darcy said nothing.

That silence did more to unsettle Elizabeth than any exclamation would have done.

She crossed the room before pride or fear could stop her. “May I speak with you?”

His eyes met hers. “Of course.”

“Here,” she said. “Or near enough. I will not ask Mr. Wickham to leave the room as if he were a criminal.”

Darcy inclined his head.

Elizabeth took one step nearer and lowered her voice, though not so much that the others could not understand the shape of the exchange. “This confusion grows worse because no one will speak plainly. I am asking you, not as an opponent, and not as someone who has dismissed your concerns, but as the woman you are courting. Will you speak with Mr. Wickham?”

His eyes flicked to Wickham.