“Presumably because I live in a neighborhood Mr. Wickham called home,” replied Elizabeth. Uncertain how she would take the news of Mr. Darcy’s proposal in Hertfordshire parsonage, Elizabeth could not speak of it, though it appeared Miss de Bourgh had no interest in Mr. Darcy as a marriage partner, despite her mother’s raptures on the subject.
Miss de Bourgh seemed to consider that. “Then he wished to put you on your guard.”
“Yes,” replied Elizabeth. “As you might recall, I am the second of five sisters—my family more than most others might be a target for his depredations.”
A low nod comprised Miss de Bourgh’s response though she gave no other. Elizabeth waited for her to reply, knowing that time might be of the essence, for Mr. Wickham might return at any moment. To speak quickly and without due thought, however, might lead to a stubborn refusal to listen. Though knowing the man might return at any moment, Elizabeth forced herself to patience, hoping Miss de Bourgh would see sense.
“I... do not know what to believe,” said Miss de Bourgh at length. “Mr. Wickham has informed me of his falling out with my cousin. Given Darcy’s character, his account of what happened between them is not unbelievable.”
“Do you speak of the living Mr. Darcy’s father referenced in his will?”
Miss de Bourgh replied with a wry smile. “I see Darcy’s account to you was nothing less than thorough.”
“It was,” said Elizabeth. “Take care for what Mr. Wickham says, for Mr. Darcy’s father left the living conditionally, and when Mr. Wickham refused it, Mr. Darcy compensated him accordingly.”
Again, Miss de Bourgh regarded Elizabeth, her head cocked to the side. “Mr. Wickham said nothing of this?”
“No doubt to deceive,” said Elizabeth, not scrupling to hide the disgust she felt for the absent libertine. “Mr. Darcy gave him four thousand pounds, a one thousand bequest, and three thousand in lieu of the living.”
“That is... excessive,” said Miss de Bourgh, her shock reflected on her features.
“According to Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham depleted it entirely in less than two years.”
Miss de Bourgh nodded, appearing distracted anew. Elizabeth’s nerves, already taut with strain, heightened even more at the sound of footsteps, though a glance outside the carriage revealed it to be nothing more than a man of the town passing by. If she did not convince Miss de Bourgh soon, Mr. Wickham would return, and she would lose all possibility of it. There was only one more account that might sway her, and Elizabeth determined to use it at once.
“This is not the first time Mr. Wickham has attempted this with a member of your family.”
“Oh?” asked she, shocked by Elizabeth’s sudden statement. “What do you mean?”
“Mr. Darcy informed me of this in the strictest confidence,” said Elizabeth. “When his sister was staying by the sea last summer, Mr. Wickham went there attempting to convince her to elope with him. Mr. Darcy arrived and foiled the plot before he could damage her, but I understand it affects her to this day.”
“I heard nothing of this,” said Miss de Bourgh, appearing weak at the very notion.
“The reason for Mr. Darcy’s communication to me, of all people, is not relevant.” Elizabeth peered at her, anxiety at the prospect of Mr. Wickham’s return shading her heart with foreboding. “I have no reason to tell you falsehoods, for I only wish to assist. Should Mr. Wickham return and find us still here, I fear you will lose any chance of escape. Please, Miss de Bourgh—let us depart at once. If you marry him, you will ruin your life.”
Finally, it appeared Miss de Bourgh believed her, for she regarded Elizabeth, her countenance even paler than was her wont. “But where shall I go? I am friendless here.”
“Not friendless,” said Elizabeth, gripping her hand tightly. “We should go to my home. We have some sturdy lads at my father’s estate who will protect you. But we must escape so we can reach it without his interference.”
A nod comprised her response, with a softly spoken: “What should we do?”
“Come,” said Elizabeth, keeping hold of Miss de Bourgh’s hand.
With her other hand, she grasped the carriage door and opened it, stepping down at once and drawing her companion along. A glance in both directions informed her that Mr. Wickham was nowhere in evidence, and not knowing where he had gone, Elizabeth stood in indecision, uncertain what she should do. A little further down the street, she noted an alley, and she made for it at once, hoping it would lead them away from Mr. Wickham’s clutches.
They reached the alley without incident, Elizabeth hurrying her companion within while she glanced back to ensure no one observed their flight. It appeared they had made their escape not a moment too soon, for a man approached the carriage from the other direction, and when he reached it, he peered within, appearing confused. Then the man Elizabeth had sought to avoid emerged from another alley further up the street and approached, exchanging a few words with the first man.
With no further delay, Elizabeth pushed Miss de Bourgh into the alley and followed her, hoping that Mr. Wickham had not seen her.
“Come, let us be away at once,” said she, grasping the other woman’s hand again and pulling her away. “Mr. Wickham hasjust returned and will look for us if we do not hurry.”
Miss de Bourgh said nothing as Elizabeth hastened her along, though she glanced back several times for pursuit. Soon they turned a corner and headed toward the north and Longbourn, eager to leave the town behind. With any luck, no one saw their flight, such that Mr. Wickham would remain ignorant of his quarry’s whereabouts.
“Darcy!” boomed Lady Catherine, taking no notice of Bingley’s presence. “You must assist me, for I bring the most distressing news. Anne departed from Rosings and declared her intention to elope. We must be after her at once.”
Nothing Lady Catherine said could have surprised Darcy more. Anne de Bourgh, a young woman completely dominated by her mother, who had not left Rosings in at least four or five years, had eloped? How was such a thing to be understood, let alone believed?
“Did you not hear what I said?” demanded Lady Catherine, her voice containing more than a hint of a snarl. “What is this inaction, Darcy? Is it more of the dithering you displayed these past years when you should have been about courting and marrying my daughter?”
