Page 220 of A Question of Character

Wickham’s expression tightened, but he nodded. “So long as the truth of those accounts is recorded, he will find it more difficult to use my name again.”

“That has already been done,” Darcy said. “Mrs. Younge has been turned over to the law,” Darcy added. “She has given my solicitor a written account of everything she knows. Counsel believes a public prosecution would expose Georgiana more thoroughly than it would punish the woman, but she will receive no further payment from my family and will trouble us no more.”

“And the maid?” Elizabeth asked.

“She is no longer in Georgiana’s service. My aunt wished her dismissed at once, but the girl’s confession reached us before the week Georgiana commanded her to wait. Without it, we might have begun the pursuit too late. I have therefore arranged for her to return to her family with a small sum, though she will receive no recommendation for another position of trust.”

He sighed. “Mrs. Annesley offered her resignation,” Darcy said. “I did not accept it. She was deceived by both Georgiana and the maid, and I cannot hold her solely responsible for a conspiracy deliberately arranged to evade her notice. She will remain until my aunt and I decide what arrangement will best serve Georgiana.”

“And how do you fare?” Elizabeth searched his face as she asked the question. The answer mattered, certainly, yet she hoped equally to discover whether the burden he had carried from Hertfordshire had eased in any measure. Though his posture remained erect and his manner composed, the strain of recent weeks lingered about him. He had come back to her, but not untouched by all that had passed.

Darcy shook his head.

The slight movement conveyed more than a lengthy explanation might have done.

“I do not know what to do about her refusal to show any measure of accountability.”

Jane’s countenance clouded with concern.

“It must be difficult for her to separate the pain of what happened from the choices that led to it,” she said softly.

“I believe that is precisely the difficulty,” Darcy replied. “Whenever she begins to acknowledge one error, she turns again to Mr. Wycombe’s deception, as though his conduct excuses every decision of her own. My aunt refuses to permit the conversation to remain there.”

Mrs. Bennet gave an approving nod.

“And very right too. One cannot spend one’s life blaming wicked people for every foolish thing one has done.”

Mr. Bennet lowered his book just enough to glance toward his wife.

“My dear, that is unexpectedly philosophical.”

She looked pleased by the compliment whether or not it had been intended as one.

“Give her time,” she repeated. Elizabeth stopped herself from continuing. She wished neither to wound Darcy nor to condemn Georgiana more harshly than the situation already demanded. The disappointment she experienced sprang less from indignation than from sorrow. She remembered the shy young lady whose greatest pleasure had been sitting beside the pianoforte while Darcy listened with unmistakable pride. It seemed impossible to reconcile that image with a girl capable of concealing the truth from the brother who loved her best.

“Yes, there are no words.” Darcy frowned.

“For now,” he continued after a brief pause, “I am content to leave her with my aunt. Lady Matlock possesses an authority Georgiana has never before encountered. Richard writes she has already forbidden her to speak of marriage, London, or Mr. Wycombe for an entire fortnight. My cousin says the prohibition has not been well received.”

Mr. Bennet smiled faintly.

“I begin to like your aunt.”

“I confess I have acquired a new appreciation of her myself.”

“I am very sorry, Elizabeth, for not believing you regarding George.”

His attention rested wholly upon her now. The others remained in the room, yet Elizabeth scarcely noticed them. There existed nothing rehearsed in his apology. He neither excused himself nor attempted to lessen the gravity of his mistake.

She answered him with equal sincerity.

“Have you told Mr. Wickham of your regrets?”

Darcy’s eyes moved toward his old companion and frowned.

“Not in so many words.”

He spoke ruefully.