“Mr. Darcywaswrong to say that,” said Elizabeth, pinking just a little. “But his return has taught us to think better of him. Aunt Gardiner knew him as a child when she lived in Lambton.”
There were matters of which Mrs. Philips did not know, and she did not like it. She prided herself on knowing the intimate details of everything that happened in Meryton—ignorance was an anathema to a gossip, especially one as determined as Mrs. Philips.
“You mentioned that Mr. Wickham proved his worthlessness,” said Mrs. Philips, her eyes narrowing. “Pray, what did he do to make you suspicious of him?”
Even Mrs. Bennet appeared to understand they could not speak of the incident at Lucas Lodge without disguise. There had been only a few witnesses, and word had not spread around the neighborhood. Elizabeth had done nothing wrong, but even the whisper of inappropriate advances by an inebriated officer could damage her reputation if they did not take care.
“When examined, his behavior was not above reproach,” said Mrs. Bennet, “and his tales of misuse at Mr. Darcy’s hands made no sense. It is obvious when one thinks about it.”
Elizabeth turned away to stifle a laugh, and she noted Mr. Bennet doing the same. That answer seemed to mollify Mrs. Philips to a certain extent, though she remained suspicious.
“Then you knew of the debts?” demanded Mrs. Philips. “The tales of Mr. Wickham attempting to seduce several young ladies in the village?”
“Not the specifics, Letitia,” replied Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy told us something of his habits, so the news you bring does not surprise us, though we did not know the specifics.”
“I hope none of the young ladies was ruined,” said Mary.
Mrs. Philips shook her head, appearing preoccupied. “Nothing had proceeded beyond flirting yet. When the blacksmith’s daughter heard the rumors, she went to her father. He approached the colonel, demanding satisfaction. That was when they discovered that Mr. Wickham had absconded.”
“He fled?” asked Mr. Bennet, his interest aroused.
“The colonel had men watching him,” said Mrs. Philips, “but he slipped away. The colonel has men searching, but I cannot say if they will apprehend him.”
“Then he is gone and good riddance,” said Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet nodded, but addressed Mrs. Philips again: “Is there any word of how much debt he has amassed?”
“I do not know the exact amount, but I understand it is substantial.”
“And in only a month,” replied Mr. Bennet, shaking his head. “It is well that we were warned of his character before he could do more damage. Darcy has pledged to cover Wickham’s debts, but only so that he may see him in prison.”
“Now that appears impossible,” said Elizabeth, “unless the colonel’s men can find him.”
“Darcy will cover the debts, regardless. He has given his word and will not go back on it.”
Elizabeth knew her father was correct. Some of her observations of him had been correct, but in several ways, she had misjudged him. It had been a hard lesson to learn that herobservations were not infallible, but a necessary lesson all the same.
Mrs. Philips continued to speak, telling them tales of Mr. Wickham’s exploits, his debts of honor, adding to those he owed the merchants, claiming he was a devil sent to ruin them all. It was more of her sensational style of spreading her gossip—what was good gossip without embellishment to make it more interesting? Though Elizabeth esteemed her aunt, this facet of her character had never rested easily with her. Mary was worse, for she watched Mrs. Philips through narrow eyes, disapproval visible in the thin line of her mouth.
At length, Mrs. Philips exhausted her flow of words and departed, allowing them all to breathe a sigh of relief. The family all separated to their own interests, and for Elizabeth, that meant considering all she had learned, including both men who had upset her equilibrium. Mr. Darcy was far more than she had ever expected, and Mr. Wickham far less. Where that left her, she could not say, but shewascurious to meet Miss Darcy. Not only did she sound like a sweet girl, but Elizabeth thought the girl’s character would tell her much about the brother.
Chapter XI
Frustration growing, Caroline Bingley stared at her sister, wondering when it had all fallen apart. First, Louisa’s drunkard of a husband had left town without telling them where he went; then Charles had gone off, again saying nothing of his destination, and now the Darcys had retreated from the city when Caroline had hoped they might stay through the season. Now she was left in the city with only her sister for company and the encroaching dread that something was amiss—horribly amiss.
Louisa, as was her wont, sat calmly and reflective, appearing to have little care for the calamity that Caroline was certain was about to befall them. Caroline regarded her critically, noting the pretty features, though Caroline had never thought her sister held a candle to her own beauty. Though Caroline had often wished for a more active conspirator, Louisa’s tendency to allow events to happen was a source of never-ending exasperation.
“Louisa,” said Caroline, struggling to maintain her even tone, “do you recall nothing about where Hurst went? Did he give no hint at all?”
The sigh with which her sister responded set Caroline’s teeth to grinding. “As I have already told you, Caroline,” replied Louisa, “Hurst said nothing to me. I can recall him dropping no hint of where he meant to go.”
“This is unacceptable,” said Caroline, spitting the words and rising to pace the room. “Hurst has gone—strange, when you consider his character—then Charles went away, and now the Darcys are gone.”
Interest piqued, Louisa looked up. “You did not mention this. When did they leave?”
“A day or two ago,” replied Caroline, her feet still carrying her back and forth in front of the sofa. “I stopped there yesterday, wondering if Mr. Darcy would have any knowledge of Charles’s movements, but the housekeeper informed me they had gone north.”
“That is not a surprise. Mr. Darcy never comes to London before he must—it is more surprising that he remained here for the Christmas season.”
