“Have I? Or have I simply chosen the least damaging form of cowardice?”
“Sometimes mercy serves better than justice.” Wickham swung into the saddle. “Remember—you acted on Lady Elizabeth’s identification, but the darkness made certainty impossible.”
“And if Lady Elizabeth asks me directly?”
“Tell her what you must. But in official testimony, uncertainty protects her better than accusations you cannot prove.”
Wickham spurred his horse towards the lane, then paused. “Give my father my love, when you write. Tell him I found opportunities that took me away from the living for a time.”
Then he was gone, hoofbeats fading into the night. Darcy stood alone in his cottage doorway, staring at the empty space where his savings had been, wondering if he had just saved three people or betrayed them all.
The fire died to ash as Darcy sat motionless in his chair where he had sat since Wickham departed. He had chosen to protect an old man’s heart over a young woman’s justice. LadyElizabeth’s cry for help echoed in his memory alongside the image of Mr Wickham’s gentle face.
What would Lady Elizabeth think when she learned he could not confirm her account with certainty? What would Lord Hartford believe when his steward claimed the darkness had obscured crucial details? And what manner of future could any of them build when truth had been sacrificed for mercy?
The questions pressed against him, but no answers came with the pale dawn light. He had made his choice, purchased not Wickham’s innocence but his father’s peace of mind.
Now he must live with the consequences, whatever they might be.
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth
“The entire evening is ruined,” Lady Hartford declared, pacing the length of Netherfield’s drawing room with agitated steps. The last of their guests had departed an hour past, yet she remained in her evening dress, too distraught to consider retirement. “Absolutely ruined. I cannot recall when I have been so mortified. And what of our future? Are we to be cut? An improper embrace has brought down other houses.”
Elizabeth sat rigidly on the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The blue silk of her gown, which had seemed so elegant at the ball’s beginning, now felt like a costume from a play she no longer wished to perform. “Mama, there was no improper embrace. He saved me. I was almost compromised by Mr Wickham. Mr Darcy was helping me to my feet after—”
“It matters not what actually occurred,” Lady Hartford cut her off sharply. “What matters is what people believe they witnessed. And what they believe is that you were discovered in a most compromising position with our steward.”
Jane settled beside Elizabeth on the sofa, her own evening dress of pale-yellow silk a stark contrast to her troubled expression. “I fear Mama speaks truth, Lizzy. I overheard Mrs Young and her daughters discussing the matter with considerable… enthusiasm.”
“Enthusiasm?” Elizabeth’s voice rose despite her efforts at composure.
“They spoke as though it were established fact that you and Mr Darcy had been caught in an inappropriate embrace,” Jane said gently. “Mrs Young declared it the most scandalous thing she had witnessed in twenty years of country assemblies.”
Lady Hartford threw her hands up in despair. “Twenty years! She will dine out on this story for months. By morning, every drawing room in three counties will buzz with speculation about what transpired here this night.”
Lord Hartford, who had been standing silently by the window, finally spoke. “It need not be a disaster, provided Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley can apprehend this Wickham fellow. Once he is brought before the magistrate, the truth will emerge and Elizabeth’s reputation will be restored. And our steward will be cleared of this also.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, seizing upon this hope. “I am certain Mr Darcy will find him. He was so very angry when he drove the man off. He will do everything in his power to see justice done.”
Her mother turned her sharp gaze upon Elizabeth. “I must say, I always credited you with superior judgement of character. Yet you allowed yourself to be drawn into private conversation with a man you had met but recently. Such behaviour suggests otherwise.”
Elizabeth curled her hands into fists. “I know it was foolish, Mama. But I thought I was perfectly safe. There were other couples on the terrace, after all. They can confirm what truly happened, even if Mr Wickham is not apprehended. They saw me tell Mr Wickham to leave me be.”
Lord Hartford shook his head grimly. “I already spoke with Sir Herbert, who was taking air with his companionwhen the commotion occurred. He confirms seeing you with a gentleman, but from his position across the terrace, he could not determine whether it was Mr Darcy, Mr Wickham, or perhaps someone else entirely.”
“Someone else?” Elizabeth’s heart sank.
“Lady Margaret concurred. The lighting was poor, and they were attending to their own conversation. They witnessed the disturbance but cannot speak to specific identities.” Lord Hartford’s expression grew more troubled. “Which means their testimony would prove less helpful than we might hope. And none saw you in the garden, nor Mr Wickham.”
“But Mr Darcy saw everything clearly,” Elizabeth insisted. “He is an honourable man, and he will ensure the truth comes to light. I have complete faith in him.”
Lady Hartford sank into her chair with a theatrical sigh. “Your faith may prove misplaced. This entire debacle reflects poorly upon our household’s management. Our steward brought a man of ill repute into our midst and our tenant invited him to a ball at our home. Neither Mr Darcy nor Mr Bingley sound suited for the positions they seek to fill.”
Jane shifted uncomfortably beside Elizabeth. “Mr Bingley could hardly have anticipated his guest would behave so abominably.”
“Could he not?” Lady Hartford’s eyes flashed with renewed indignation. “A gentleman of proper breeding would have taken greater care in his associations. This incident only confirms my suspicions about Mr Bingley’s suitability as a connexion for this family.”
