“Lydia!” Lord Hartford’s voice thundered across the table.
“How dare you,” Elizabeth said. “I overheard Mr Darcy telling the elder Mr Wickham exactly what happened and there was no possibility he was lying—he had no idea I was listening. Besides, I saw Wickham myself. I knew all along it was him. I didn’t see his face exactly in the darkness, but I was certain of it.” She turned to stare directly at Lydia. “And anyway, why would you defend such a man?”
Lydia’s face flushed scarlet. “I will not be interrogated like some common criminal!” she shouted, slamming down her napkin with such force that the glasses rattled. “You’re all fools if you believe her lies!”
“This conversation is over,” Lord Hartford said. “Lydia, you will go to your room immediately, and you will remain there until you are prepared to apologize to your sister for these unconscionable remarks.”
She turned on her heel and stormed from the room, leaving everyone behind in stunned silence. Elizabeth sank backinto her chair, her hands trembling as she tried to understand what had just occurred.
“Lizzy,” Kitty said softly, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Please do not listen to such nonsense. We all know the kind of person you are.”
But Elizabeth barely heard her. All she could think about was the hatred in Lydia’s eyes, the vicious satisfaction with which she had delivered each cruel blow. There was no doubt. Wickham had spoken to Lydia and poisoned her mind. The question was, when? And where was he? And more importantly—what else was he planning?
Chapter Thirty-One
Darcy
Darkness had settled over the countryside as Darcy sat on the stone wall that bordered Longbourn’s eastern fields, his gaze fixed upon the distant lights of Netherfield. Somewhere within that grand house, Elizabeth moved through rooms he would likely never see again. He wondered which window belonged to her chamber, whether she slept peacefully or lay awake as tormented as he.
The evening air carried the scent of woodsmoke and dying leaves, reminders that winter approached swiftly. Soon, the roads would become treacherous with ice and snow, making travel difficult. If Elizabeth truly sought an annulment, he would need to make arrangements for his departure before the season turned completely.
The sound of approaching footsteps made him turn, expecting perhaps a groundskeeper making evening rounds. Instead, he saw a slight figure stumbling along the path, the sound of muffled sobs carrying on the night air.
“Lady Lydia?”
She looked up at his voice, her face streaked with tears that glinted in the moonlight.
“Mr Darcy.” Her voice came out weak and shaky.
“What has happened? Has someone hurt you?”
“Yes,” she said, then shook her head quickly. “But not in the way you think.”
Darcy studied her tear-stained face with growing concern. “Tell me what troubles you.”
Lydia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving streaks of dirt across her cheeks. “Is it true what you said? That Wickham tried to force a kiss upon Elizabeth?”
“Yes.”
“But is it not possible that Elizabeth misunderstood? That perhaps he merely wished to express his feelings and she took it wrongly?”
The questions struck Darcy as odd, given Lydia’s earlier vehement defence of Wickham. “Why do you ask?”
“You knew George when he was young. Was he always truthful?”
Suspicion began to coil in Darcy’s chest like a serpent. She had called him George. Was it possible that he had broken his word and had never left? Or that he returned? “Lady Lydia, do you know where Wickham is?”
She looked away, her hands twisting in her skirts. “I… I cannot say.”
“You can and you will. If you know his whereabouts, you must tell me immediately.”
The authority in his voice seemed to break through her resistance. “He is hiding in the old hunting cabin on the far side of the estate. He arrived several weeks ago, saying he had gone to London but could find no employment as tale of his supposed actions had spread.”
Darcy’s blood ran cold. Another lie. None had spoken of him after he and Elizabeth wed. None wasted a thought on him. “You have been helping him?”
“He asked for my assistance, and I… I felt badly for him. He told me that Elizabeth had lied about what happened, that he had done nothing wrong. He said he had fallen in love with her and hoped she might accept his suit, but when he tried to express his feelings, she misunderstood and created this terrible story about him.”
“And you believed him?”
