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“All but one.”
Darcy’s heart pumped a jagged rhythm. “Which daughter is from home?” When Darcy had departed from England, he had supposed Elizabeth might marry while he was away. It had presented itself as the best resolution to his dilemma. If she were no longer available to him, then he could forget her and seek a more suitable woman to wed.
But the longer he was abroad, the more difficult it had been to forget her. Finally, he had stopped lying to himself. He dreaded the possibility that she might marry. Now he awaited Timson’s answer with both dread and hope.
“The youngest, Lydia.”
Darcy released a breath he had not realized he was holding. Timson noticed the reaction but did not comment on it. Elizabeth is still unmarried. A heavy weight had been lifted from Darcy’s chest. He longed to view it as bad news. Her family was still unsuitable, and she would continue to tempt him. But his unruly heart would not listen.
“Miss Lydia is married?” Darcy found this surprising. She could not have been above sixteen years of age when he had known the family. It would be odd indeed for her to marry before the rest of the sisters.
Timson coughed. “I could find no evidence that she was wed.” Darcy frowned. Why else would she be from home? Surely her family had not sent her to school. Was she visiting relatives?
“In truth,” Timson continued, “I do not believe the family knows her whereabouts.”
Now Darcy experienced a very different sense of alarm. “How can that be?” The Bennets had not impressed him as extremely attentive parents, but they seemed caring enough. Surely they would not have simply misplaced a daughter.
Timson rubbed his chin, staring into the empty fireplace. “Unfortunately, it is the subject of quite a bit of local gossip.”
Darcy’s heart clenched again. He well remembered Miss Lydia’s flirtatiousness and lack of discretion.
“Apparently, Miss Lydia left for Brighton not long after her father’s first attack of apoplexy,” Timson explained. “His health was improving, and the family believed all would be well. She was staying with Colonel Forster’s wife while the regiment was stationed in Brighton.”
Lydia Bennet and a town full of militia officers… Darcy shuddered to think what had befallen her.
“She ran off in the middle of the night with one of the officers.”
“Eloped?” Darcy asked in a strangled voice.
Timson shook his head slowly. “As unfortunate as that would be—no. She left a note suggesting she intended to marry, but I doubt it was ever the blackguard’s purpose. They escaped as far as London, where they lived together for a few weeks before he abandoned her.”
Oh good Lord! Lydia was a foolish girl, but she did not deserve such a fate: to be deceived and abandoned. No doubt she had expected to marry. Instead she had surrendered her reputation and brought scandal down upon her entire family. Darcy finished the brandy in one gulp. “What was the name of the officer?”
Timson’s eyebrows shot upward; he would not expect Darcy to be acquainted with the officers in Colonel Forster’s regiment. He drew a few papers from his jacket pocket and scanned them. “A George Wickham.”
With an oath, Darcy threw the crystal goblet into the fireplace, where it shattered into hundreds of pieces. Ignoring Timson’s cry of astonishment, Darcy thrust himself from his chair and stalked to the window. If only he could dive through the glass and escape from this knowledge! But that was impossible. It awaited him like his doom. He would need to know the details, but no matter how the story would unfold, Darcy knew it was his responsibility.
“I take it this man is known to you?” Timson said in a low voice.
Darcy ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on his scalp; somehow the faint pain helped. “Yes,” he growled.
He recalled the expression on Wickham’s face when Bingley and Darcy had encountered him speaking to Elizabeth and her sisters on the streets of Meryton. Darcy had spoken barely a word to anyone but had been unable to resist the urge to gaze at Elizabeth. Wickham had known him since childhood and must have guessed at Darcy’s interest in the second eldest Bennet daughter. Surely that was the reason the officer had singled out Elizabeth for his attentions; no doubt he had poured lies into her ears. Was ruining Elizabeth’s sister an act of revenge against Darcy? Had he hoped Darcy would pay him to marry the girl? He would not have known Darcy had left the country.
“Damnation!” No matter how Darcy viewed the situation, it was his fault. He had allowed Wickham to ingratiate himself with Meryton’s population without warning them of the officer’s flaws. Then his interest in Elizabeth had made her family Wickham’s target. Finally, his precipitous departure from England had prevented him from mitigating the damage he had inflicted.
Elizabeth…God, Elizabeth… Darcy hung his head, staring at the floor. What she must have suffered!
This had happened two years ago; it was over and done. And yet Darcy’s eyes grew quite moist when he imagined her pain. Elizabeth and her sister Jane must have felt that disgrace most keenly. Why did I not demand information about the Bennets from Miss Bingley? Why did I not have Wright send someone to investigate earlier?
“Surely the family made efforts to retrieve Miss Lydia?” He could hear the choked quality in his voice but was beyond caring. After all, he paid Timson for his discretion.
Timson cleared his throat, staring at the shards in the fireplace. “Well, it went hard for them, it did. Mr. Bennet immediately hurried to London to search for Miss Lydia and the officer. After a few weeks, he located them and demanded that Wickham marry the chit. The man refused and apparently laughed and taunted him.”
Darcy had not thought much of Mr. Bennet, but he had been an honorable man. Seeing his daughter in such a situation and then to be taunted by Wickham… Events at Ramsgate had not proceeded nearly so far and yet the memories were seared into Darcy’s mind.
“They had a terrible row,” Timson continued. “And Mr. Bennet had a second attack of apoplexy—right there on the floor of Wickham’s boarding house.”
Darcy gasped, horrified. “He died then?” Timson nodded. Not only am I responsible for the Bennet family’s disgrace but also for their father’s death.
