Page 12 of To Win Her Affections

ELIZABETH FOUND SLEEP difficult that evening, and her reflections continued into the following day. Her aunt directed their steps to an outing that day to a viewpoint of some local renown, but despite Elizabeth’s love of nature and eagerness for such prospects, her mind was only half on the view. That her relations had noticed her distraction was obvious, though they tactfully kept their own counsel for the moment.

Were anyone to ask her, Elizabeth was uncertain whether she could have stated the exact reason for her preoccupation. Mr. Darcy occupied a rather central position in her thoughts, as did Miss Darcy, though she also considered Mr. Wickham to a certain extent.

That last she now could not consider without abhorrence. Elizabeth had always fancied herself intelligent and discerning—nothing annoyed her more than allowing another to make a fool of her. As she thought back on those days after Mr. Wickham’s arrival, she could recall in detail what he had said to her and how he had charmed her, played upon her obvious dislike of Mr. Darcy’s manners, and fed those feelings with the skill of a virtuoso.

What galled Elizabeth most of all was how she had allowed him to lead her about by the nose. She had been absurd, prejudiced, and blind, and the knowledge sat ill with her. At least Mr. Wickham was now gone from Meryton, and she doubted he would ever return.

By the time they arrived back at the inn, Elizabeth saw some definite signs that her aunt meant to have an account of her thoughts. That opportunity arrived after luncheon and perhaps a half hour before they were to depart for Pemberley. Though she might have expected her uncle to make himself scarce, he sat nearby, looking at a local newspaper, though Elizabeth knew he attended more closely to their conversation than to the paper.

“You seem quite distracted, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner, opening the conversation without disguising her intentions.

Elizabeth offered her aunt a slight smile. “You know me too well for deception.”

“You have not hidden it, Lizzy,” said she.

“No, I suppose I have not,” agreed Elizabeth. “There is much for me to consider.”

“Do you wish to discuss it? Sometimes speaking of a matter aloud does much to clarify one’s thoughts.”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct.” Elizabeth paused, considering. “You recall that my initial impression of Mr. Darcy was not at all positive.”

Uncle Gardiner laughed and folded his newspaper. “No one acquainted with you could have mistaken it, Lizzy. As usual, you did not hesitate to share your opinion.”

Though she knew he meant it with affectionate humor, Elizabeth felt the sting of his statement, for it was the truth. “In my defense, I shall assert that Mr. Darcy’s behavior was not at all admirable.

“But I was wrong.”

“How so, Lizzy?” asked Aunt Gardiner.

Elizabeth hesitated, uncertain how much she might safely say. There were certain matters she could not divulge, as Mr. Darcy had related them in confidence. Certain other events she wished to keep to herself. The scene at Hunsford parsonage, for example, remained unsettled in her own mind and was embarrassing besides.

“It was Mr. Darcy’s conduct in Kent,” said Elizabeth at length.

“Was he much altered?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “At first, he was much as he had been, though he appeared more comfortable in the company of his relations. Mr. Darcy is a reticent man who will never be open with his feelings, but he lost the edge of haughtiness I saw in his character in Hertfordshire. As the visit proceeded, I came to understand something more of him.”

“And this overset your firm opinion of him,” surmised her uncle.

“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “I was so certain I had taken his measure that this new side of him came as a shock.”

“There is something else, is there not?” asked her aunt.

Elizabeth smiled. “Perceptive as always. The other matter concerns Mr. Wickham.”

The way her aunt and uncle both regarded her, Elizabeth knew they had suspected something of this nature. Seeing her expression, her aunt laughed and patted Elizabeth’s hand.

“Your reaction to the housekeeper’s comments about Mr. Wickham suggested you knew something, my dear. What I cannot make out is why Mr. Darcy’s account was more trustworthy than what Mr. Wickham told you, especially when you were so convinced about the reverse.”

There was no point in contradicting her aunt—what she said was nothing less than the truth. The question was how to go about explaining it fairly without revealing too much.

“When Mr. Darcy explained it to me,” said Elizabeth after a long pause, “I labeled it the grossest lie.”

“But you reconsidered,” prompted Uncle Gardiner.

“I did,” said Elizabeth. “When I compared Mr. Wickham’s tale to Mr. Darcy’s account, I recognized certain discrepancies in Mr. Wickham’s story that I had never noticed before. When I compared the two accounts, I had no choice but to acknowledge that Mr. Darcy’s was the more credible.”

“That suggests more amiss with Mr. Wickham than a false story about Mr. Darcy.”