Elizabeth shook her head. “It is rarely enough. Do you really think that living in isolation, with him a deserter, will be the life you want to lead? You would be spurned from polite society, banished from your home, friends, and family. You cannot want that.”
She could see her words had started to influence her. Doubtless, Mr Wickham had presented a very different picture of the life that awaited them. He would not have spoken of all the difficulties they would face. “If your feelings for him are as strong as they seem, you should at least speak with Mr Darcyfirst. Surely waiting a few months is better than running off in the middle of the night.”
Miss Darcy frowned. “Mr Wickham says my brother would not understand.”
Elizabeth suddenly remembered the conversation she and Mr Wickham had had upon their first meeting. Mr Darcy had been jealous of the man and refused to give him the living his father had promised. But was there more to the story than that? “Miss Darcy, I understand what you must be going through right now. But surely concealing your plans from your brother is not the right thing to do. Mr Darcy may not understand at first, but he has your best interests at heart, of that I am certain.”
Miss Darcy’s face softened. She seemed about to speak when the door opened and Mrs Younge strode in. “How dare you show your face here again! I shall have to call the constable and have you forcibly removed if you do not get out this instant!”
Elizabeth stood, backing away from the woman and keeping herself in line with Miss Darcy. “I came to talk to Miss Darcy —”
“Something Mr Darcy, her brother and guardian, expressly told you not to do!” Mrs Younge flushed dark red in her rage, making her elegant face look almost ugly. “Does everyone in Meryton have as much nerve as you? Or is the Bennet family the ones who think that impropriety and backward manners are the order of the day?”
Elizabeth counselled herself to have a care, to not lose her temper as she had before. “I came here in good faith to stop Miss Darcy from making a terrible mistake.” She looked at Mrs Younge. Did she not seem perhaps too angry? As though it wasnot the welfare of her charge that concerned her, but rather as though Elizabeth was interfering with her own affairs.
A terrible suspicion dawned on Elizabeth. It seemed too monstrous to believe, but could Mrs Younge possibly be complicit in Mr Wickham’s schemes? Could she be encouraging Georgiana in this folly?
Elizabeth began carefully. “As her companion and friend, I would think that you should have talked her out of this decision.”
“What Miss Darcy wants to do to secure her own happiness is none of your affair,” Mrs Younge said, her voice poisonously soft. “Now, I must insist that you leave this house. And this time, never return.” Mrs Younge stepped toward her ominously.
Elizabeth cast a painful glance at Miss Darcy, willing her to understand and change her mind. “Please reconsider, Miss Darcy.”
“Do not listen to her, Miss Darcy. She is only trying to ruin your happiness.” She stormed up to Elizabeth, forcing her back into the foyer. “How did you come to know about the elopement?”
It was real, then, and Mrs Younge knew of it. Some part of her had still hoped there could be another explanation. Elizabeth’s heart hammered against her chest as it was confirmed. “I—”
“You are jealous of Miss Darcy and Mr Wickham, are you not? You have been spying, I’ll wager.” Mrs Younge screwed up her nose. “Shame on you.”
“I am not jealous —”
“You are! Mr Denny introduced him to you on his first day here, and you cannot stand the thought of someone else capturing his attention.”
Mrs Younge continued to stalk toward her, pushing Elizabeth closer to the front doors. Would Mrs Younge spread rumours about her through Meryton, claiming that she had come to accost Miss Darcy?
No good could come of pursuing the conflict. Miss Darcy simply would not listen to her — not now. Elizabeth backed out of the front doors, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender. “Please, I am only trying to help.”
“Well, don’t,” Mrs Younge said coldly, and slammed the door in her face. It took a few moments for Elizabeth to find her composure. Her legs felt like they were weighed down with lead as she walked down the steps. Several people passed by, whispering behind their hands as she hurried away. Had they heard Mrs Younge yell at her, seen how she had slammed the door? Elizabeth felt hot tears stinging her eyes and wished she could disappear from the street entirely.
Her mind was spinning as she headed out of Meryton and turned onto the country lane that would lead her home. She wrapped her arms around her waist, the chill coming into her bones. She had to do something. But what? Mrs Younge was not only aware of the plan, but was actively encouraging Miss Darcy to throw her life away.
When Elizabeth arrived home, it was nearly dark. Her mother came out of the house, scolding her for being so late, and ushered her up to her room to change for supper. Elizabeth could not seem to focus on the task at hand. She sat in front of the dim and clouded mirror, brushing her hair endlessly as she tried to think of what to do. She could not go back to reasonwith Miss Darcy. Mrs Younge had got her clutches too deep into her young and impressionable mind for that to be of any use. And she could not write to Mr Darcy. Now that Elizabeth had revealed she knew of their plot, the pair would likely try to run away at once, and the letter would not reach him in time to do anything about it.
She startled as Jane opened the door and came in. “Lizzy, whatever is taking so long? Mother is worried sick.”
Jane neared the vanity, and Elizabeth turned to face her sister. “I am sorry,” she said. “I lost track of time.”
Jane helped her hurry and dress for supper, tying her hair back in a simple bun at the nape of her neck. Elizabeth tried to mask her dark humour, wishing she could have remained in her room to sort out what to do. She pushed her food around her plate, only making believe that she ate to prevent Mrs Bennet from worrying.Oh, God, what do I do?
Chapter 19
“The nerve of that girl! Can you believe she would barge into this house like that and presume to tell you what to do?” Mrs Younge said as they entered the drawing room after supper. “Backward, impudent little chit,” she mumbled for good measure.
Georgiana swallowed hard. It had been difficult to see Elizabeth, looking so hurt and so sincere in her worry. She had almost been convinced that her concern was genuine. Then Mrs Younge had explained the whole to her, stating that Elizabeth was jealous. Had she not seen them walking through Meryton together? Surely that was it.
Then why did she feel so unsure? Mr Wickham and Mrs Younge had both assured her it was the only way, and had at last explained the rift between Fitzwilliam and Mr Wickham. Her brother had refused to give Mr Wickham what her father had promised him. This way, he would have to give him the living and then some, so they might start their lives together. And it was a fact that Mr Wickham had not been granted the living of Kympton. Georgiana would not have thought Fitzwilliam would have acted so coldly, cutting him off with nothing, but it was afact that he neverdidspeak of poor Mr Wickham, who had also grown up at Pemberley.
“You love me, do you not? You told me you did,” Mr Wickham had pressed when he had come to call a few days before. He held her hand between his, and it was all so overwhelming that she had agreed. Yet everything seemed to happen so quickly!
