Page 217 of A Question of Character

He rested both hands upon his knees for a moment before beginning, as though considering where such an extraordinary tale ought properly to commence.

“We found Miss Darcy sooner than any of us expected,” he said. “The gentleman believed himself secure. He supposed the letter would delay Mr. Darcy for several days longer, and therefore made little effort to conceal their movements.”

Mrs. Bennet gasped softly.

“So they had not yet reached Scotland?”

“No, ma’am. They had no opportunity. Providence favored us.”

His account unfolded deliberately, never dwelling overlong upon his own part in the affair. Elizabeth suspected the omission intentional, for whenever his actions reflected particularly well upon him, he passed over them with remarkable brevity. The greater portion of his narration concerned Darcy and Georgiana, and Elizabeth listened with increasing sorrow as the circumstances became clear.

What followed was a tale so extraordinary that Elizabeth could do naught but gape.

She had imagined any number of possibilities during the previous fortnight, but none approached the truth. That Georgiana had concealed the gentleman’s true surname from her brother out of fear and shame, allowing him to persist in believing Mr. Wickham guilty, seemed beyond belief. Equally astonishing was the existence of another gentleman whose name differed by scarcely more than a single syllable and whose character proved so thoroughly corrupt.

To think that kind, sweet Georgiana had acted in such a duplicitous manner was beyond her comprehension.

Elizabeth remembered the timid young lady she had first met in Town, whose modesty bordered upon painful shyness. She had spoken so affectionately of her brother then, looking toward him with unconcealed admiration whenever he entered the room. How lonely Georgiana must have become before another’s flatteries found such fertile ground. Loneliness, Elizabeth reflected, often persuaded people to believe what comforted them rather than what was true.

Poor Mr. Darcy, to have learned of his sister’s defects in character in such a manner.

She did not mistake the matter for simple youthful folly. Georgiana had erred gravely. Yet she was scarcely sixteen years of age, motherless, possessed of a considerable fortune, and surrounded for months by a woman she trusted completely. Elizabeth found it impossible to condemn her without also mourning the circumstances that had made such deception possible.

Mr. Wickham paused long enough to accept another cup of tea before continuing.

“Miss Darcy has suffered greatly since discovering the truth,” he said. “Mr. Wycombe departed during the night without so much as a farewell once he learned the marriage settlement could not be obtained without Mr. Darcy’s consent.”

Mrs. Bennet pressed one hand against her breast.

“The wretch!”

Mr. Bennet nodded once.

“There is little baseness beyond a fortune hunter disappointed of his prey.”

Mr. Wickham inclined his head in agreement.

“I fear you judge him accurately, sir.”

“There is hope for reform.” Mr. Wickham’s words drew her attention again.

His countenance softened in a manner Elizabeth had not often observed.

“I know Miss Darcy’s present conduct has disappointed everyone who loves her. Nevertheless, she is still exceedingly young. She has admitted many painful truths already. Others may require more time. Shame rarely instructs a person all at once.”

Elizabeth studied him thoughtfully. A year earlier he himself would likely have laughed at such sentiment. The sincerity with which he now expressed it admitted no doubt.

“If I can become a better person, then she can as well. I understand Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam have called on Lady Matlock to intervene.”

He offered the observation simply, without inviting admiration for his own reformation. Elizabeth found that restraint more convincing than any elaborate profession could have been.

Mrs. Bennet nodded vigorously.

“Auntly authority may accomplish what brotherly affection cannot. I have always maintained young ladies require sensible female guidance.”

Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow.

“My dear, I was not aware you considered yourself severe.”