Page 40 of A Prudent Engagement

She said, “I always knew that you see yourself as much above us.”

“Yes—yes. That in great part is what I refer to. I am from an entirely higher station in life. It is a pleasure to me that I can raise you up to this position and that I can give you the blessings and delights that come from it. It does not matter, not really. No—I do not mean that. It does matter. Station, money, estates, blood, connections, they do matter. Only a romantic fool would say they do not matter at all. I hope to always avoid foolishness. Beyond any doubt it would have been preferable for me if you had a dowry to match my estate, as well as connections whose names were of equal moment to those of my closest relations. But while they matter, they are not the considerations of greatest importance. And that is what I realised.”

Elizabeth’s smile had returned, though it was a little twisted. “And you realised this when my papa died? Would you have never made an offer if you had not been reminded that death comes to even the very great?”

“I would have offered,” Darcy said instantly. “My sentiments were too deep to disregard. It was impossible for me to spend such a great span of time with you and for your attractions to not exercise their effect on me. Against my will I found myself in love with you and unable to force myself away a second time.”

“A second time!” Elizabeth exclaimed in astonishment. “Do you mean to tell me that you were already in love with me when you left last November?”

“Was I? I hardly know how to describe it. My feelings then were not as strong as they have become. But I was aware of my great susceptibility towards you—perhaps had we not argued when we danced at Bingley’s ball, I might have remained longer. But no. No, I would have then been more committed to leaving... Wickham. We argued about Wickham. I had forgotten about him. Is he still present in the neighbourhood?”

Elizabeth’s colour rose, and she looked down. “He is still enrolled in the regiment.”

Her expression caused Darcy a stab of jealousy. He had not expected that.

Wickham.

Did Elizabeth still think of him as a friend?

He wanted to ask, but he hesitated. It somehow seemed too difficult. He clenched his jaw. Even if by now she had seen through that scoundrel’s nature, they must have shared many points of friendly conversation.

Darcy imagined Elizabeth laughing with Wickham, smiling at him, and engaging in flirtation with him.

It was unendurable.

“I must demand that you avoid friendly discourse with him in future. He is a man who has chosen to set himself against me, to treat me in the worst manner, and who has lost my good opinion forever.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed, and she pulled her arm away from him. “You must demand? Only demands, no explanations?” Then she sighed. “But it is your right—that is what I have agreed to. Yes, I swear I shall have nothing to do with him. But can you explain? You accuse him of having treated you in the worst manner, without giving any details, and he has accused you of acting in a most dishonourable and jealous manner towards him, with many details given. I confess that when we argued about him during the Netherfield ball, I was inclined to trust him, rather than you. But now I trust you in the matter—without any reason. No, that is not true. What Mr. Wickham asserts you did does not match the man I have come to know. But I beg you, if we are to marry, I beg you to tell me the story, so that I might know.”

It was right that she agreed to what he demanded. She was to be his wife. It was her duty to submit to him in cases where he had made a firm decision.

Why then did he feel so uncomfortable seeing the way she had meekened when she said that it was his right.

It was his right.

It was with that sense of guilt that Darcy gestured to her to sit on a bench by the garden fence and said in a low voice, “I do not know what particular stories he has imposed upon you with, but I shall tell you the truth of the matter.” After that he explained his connection with Wickham from childhood until the time that he had given him money after his father’s death.

“Three thousand pounds! Why, he implied there had been no compensation at all—he said that you had taken advantage of some ambiguity in the will to cheat him. I should have known then that was nonsense—I have heard enough from Mr. Phillips, and Grandpapa before he died, about how such documents are written. If it were a matter of the will, it would not have been something that you could simply set aside. I was foolish to ever believe him.”

Darcy then asked, “Why did you not trust in my character?”

Elizabeth did not reply. He looked at her face, but she would not meet his eyes.

Then she sighed. “It is not important. Not now. Chiefly, I did not know you so well then as I have come to. But is that all of it? The way you spoke of him, your demand that I never speak with him—there is more to the dislike than old mutual disdain.”

“Yes, and I wish to tell you—but you must understand that what I share should be told to no one else. Certainly not to your mother and sisters—maybe Miss Bennet, but none of the others.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I promise.”

“And also promise me that—well, I cannot extract the promise until you know the details, and I know that I can trust in your kindness, good will, and good sense in this matter. Last summer, I took a house for my sister in Ramsgate, and while she was there, with a companion in whose character we had been sadly deceived, Mr. Wickham was given ample opportunities to speak with her, and he convinced her to elope with him. It was only my arrival shortly before the planned escape that prevented the whole. At the time, Georgiana was only fifteen—I must beg you to not judge her too harshly for this mistake. She is still very young, and she was innocent, perhaps too innocent, of the world. And she had many fond memories of Wickham from when my father still lived.”

Darcy fell silent.

He remembered the horror of the knowledge, the awfulness of the time.

Wickham is here, in this town, able to talk to Elizabeth and her sisters.

His jaw clenched.