Page 10 of Idle Gossip

“Do not be obtuse, Elizabeth. You are your mother’s least favorite child—or rather, you were until yesterday. Who do you think she would have thrown at Mr. Collins? Certainly not Mary, though I believe they would suit. No, she would not have risked losing him. She would have picked her least favorite pretty daughter to entice him. With you as future mistress of Longbourn, she would never need to fear being cast from her home.”

Elizabeth could see her father’s logic, but she did not like it. “Then I suppose I ought to be thrilled with Mr. Darcy’s attentions,” she said sarcastically.

“I know you do not like him now, but have an open mind. It is possible we all misjudged him.”

“Papa! He called me tolerable.”

“A dreadful offense, to be sure, but do we not all say things we do not mean when we are in a pique?” Mr. Bennet smiled placatingly.

Elizabeth made no reply. Mr. Darcy had apologized. She should remember that. Forgiveness was a divine trait. It was a shame she had such a resentful temperament.

“I need to gather my things. I shall speak with you when I return, Papa.”

Mr. Bennet waved her away and picked up his book again. As Elizabeth left the library, she was forced to realize her father was likely correct on all counts.

One more thing on which I must dwell. She did not like it one bit.

Elizabeth met Mr. Darcy outside Longbourn as he handed his horse off to the groom.

“Miss Elizabeth! Are we to leave immediately?”

“Yes, if you please. Mama is set to call on all our neighbors about her good fortune.” She made a face. “I was to go—Jane told her you gentlemen were not coming today.” Bless her sister for keeping their mama distracted. Whether Jane knew Mr. Darcy was supposed to come or not was uncertain, but Elizabeth did not care.

“Then we are escaping?” Mr. Darcy smiled, and Elizabeth’s heart did a little flip.

“If that is what you wish to call it, then yes.”

Mr. Darcy offered his arm, and they set off at a brisk pace. The air was cold, and their breath left white clouds in the air.

“This way to Oakham Mount,” Elizabeth said. “It is my favorite walk.”

“Are you fond of walking?”

“I am. I am fond of many things. One could never consider me accomplished, for I have many interests that draw my attention.”

Darcy made a noise of agreement. “Miss Bingley attempted to describe to me what an accomplished woman was the other evening. I found her description to be ludicrous.”

Elizabeth cocked her head. “And what does Miss Bingley believe makes an accomplished woman?”

“I believe she said there is something in her air, in the manner of walking that sets her apart. And an accomplished lady must also speak several languages, be able to draw and paint tables, net purses…there were so many, I cannot keep track.”

“By that estimation, I am far from accomplished. I speak a bit of French, and I cannot draw or paint.”

“I have never seen the creature Miss Bingley describes. If she exists, she would frighten most men.”

Elizabeth laughed delightedly at his words. “You have a sense of humor, Mr. Darcy. I did not imagine it of you.”

“I am used to hiding much of my character from others. It is my experience that the more people know of you, the more they can use that information to hurt you.”

Elizabeth paused. “Sir, that sentiment is rather bitter, though I see the truth in it. Who hurt you?”

Mr. Darcy hesitated for a moment. “A childhood friend,” he finally continued. “I shall not bore you with the details, but will be brief. As boys, we were nearly brothers. My father sponsored him and sent him to school with me. Somehow during our education, resentment formed, and he began using my family name for licentious behavior and to cover his gambling debts. My father never believed ill of him and left him a valuable family living in his will. My friend—Wickham was his name—gave up the living in exchange for three thousand pounds. Before he left, he said some…hurtful things…and then I saw no more of him for some time.”

Elizabeth felt Darcy’s arm stiffen under her hand.

“Last summer,” he continued, “he intruded on my notice again. Wickham attempted to elope with my sister. Georgiana, who was not yet sixteen, thought herself in love. But good sense prevailed, and she wrote to me, begging me to come. I found Wickham attempting to force her into a carriage behind the house we had leased in Ramsgate for the summer.”

Elizabeth gasped. “That despicable man! Pray, what has become of him?”