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Kitty kicked at a stone in the road. “Everything is so dull in Meryton now, and Lydia is enjoying herself in Brighton. It isn’t fair! I am older; I should have been the one to go!”
Best to direct the conversation in other directions. “I was surprised that Miss Elizabeth accompanied her. Is she a particular friend of Mrs. Forster’s as well?”
“She is not, to be sure!” Kitty’s tone turned peevish. “Lizzy is scarcely acquainted with Mrs. Forster, but Papa insisted that she must go.”
This lent credence to the idea that Elizabeth was to serve as a sort of chaperone for her younger sister, hardly an enviable position.
Kitty continued. “There is nothing for her in Brighton. Lizzy does not even care for the officers!” Relief surged through Darcy, but then she added, “Well, except for Mr. Wickham, of course.”
Darcy nearly tripped over his own feet. “Wickham?”
Kitty’s sidelong glance suggested she had heard much of Wickham’s slander. “Yes, he is quite Lizzy’s favorite.”
Darcy was finding it difficult to breathe. “When I encountered her in Kent, I was of the impression that her friendship with Mr. Wickham had, er, waned,” he managed to say.
Kitty squinted at him. “You saw Lizzy in Kent?”
Elizabeth had concealed his presence at Rosings? Why? He could understand avoiding the details of his disastrous marriage proposal, but was it necessary to hide their entire encounter?
“Er, yes. Mr. Collins is my aunt’s parson.” Darcy thought it best to give as little explanation as possible.
“Huh.”
Darcy needed to learn more. “I thought Miss Elizabeth did not care for Mr. Wickham,” he prompted.
Kitty shrugged. “She was vexed when he was courting Mary King, but that came to an end while Lizzy was away.”
Surely Elizabeth would not have returned Wickham’s interest after returning from Kent. When she read Darcy’s letter… “Miss Elizabeth was still on good terms with Mr. Wickham?” Hearing the incredulity in his own voice, Darcy was not surprised at Kitty’s searching look.
“Oh yes!” Kitty declared without hesitation. “It was as if Mary King had never existed and Lizzy had never left. I actually”—the girl lowered her voice and inclined her head toward Darcy’s, although there was no one nearby to hear her secret—“spied them in the garden! They didn’t even notice me.” She giggled.
“Alone in the garden?” The mere image filled Darcy with horror.
“I even saw him”—she paused for dramatic effect—“kiss her!”
“K-Kiss?” Darcy could not breathe.
Kitty held a hand to her heart. “It was so romantic—just as it was described in The Castle of Otranto. Have you read it? It is terribly good!”
Darcy tried and failed rather spectacularly to avoid picturing Wickham kissing Elizabeth. It was all too easy to imagine. His chest ached from lack of air—or was that pain in his heart?
A sudden thought struck him. “Did he force her into it?”
Kitty’s brows drew together. “Of course not. She was smiling.”
Turning away from Kitty, Darcy concentrated on not being sick by the side of the road.
“He is frightfully handsome, particularly in his regimentals. He appears exactly as an officer ought to. Don’t you think?” Fortunately, she continued without expecting an answer. “And he’s so noble. He could be bitter and angry, but he’s all amiability despite the horrible way he’s been treated by—”
Darcy twisted his head around to glare at Kitty, whose mind finally caught up with her tongue.
“—by other people,” she finished lamely.
Darcy immediately dismissed any consideration of telling Kitty the truth; her opinion was of no matter. But how could Elizabeth—? He had given her the letter. She knew the truth of Wickham’s nature. Darcy had even revealed the truth about Georgiana. Elizabeth could not possibly trust the man.
But what if she had
not read the letter?
