“The only life to consider is Mr. Darcy’s,” Elizabeth declared, shrugging her arm from Caroline’s grasp.
“Not when you are with child, my dear,” Caroline Bingley stated, her smile a thin slash of malice. “Or so Lieutenant Wickham claimed at yesterday’s garden party. He announced it quite publicly, attributing paternity to Mr. Darcy from your encounters at Hunsford.”
“That is absurd,” Elizabeth retorted, her voice sounding distant. “Utterly absurd.”
“Naturally, you would deny it,” Caroline continued smoothly. “Though Lieutenant Wickham seemed quite convinced. He even offered to marry you himself, claiming the child as his own—for a substantial settlement from Mr. Darcy, of course.”
“This is monstrous,” Elizabeth shot back. “A complete fabrication.”
“Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet hissed, clutching her arm and pulling her slightly away from the others. “If you are indeed increasing, you must not deny it. Think of the advantage. Mr. Darcy may survive, and then he would be obliged to marry you!”
“Mama!” Elizabeth jerked away, horrified. “I am not with child! There was never any impropriety between Mr. Darcy and myself. He proposed marriage, yes, but I refused him. That is all that occurred.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face reflected equal parts disappointment and disbelief. “But why would Lieutenant Wickham claim such a thing if?—”
“Because he’s a liar,” Elizabeth said bitterly. “And a cheat. He shot Darcy before the signal.”
“He wouldn’t fight for you, Lizzy, unless he wanted to defend you and his child,” Mrs. Bennet hooted, her expression a mixture of anguish and triumph. “Oh, if only Wickham hadn’t shot him, he would be asking your father for your hand.”
“But, Mama, I am not with child. He hates me and will never forgive me.”
“On that, I’m afraid Miss Elizabeth is correct,” Caroline said, looking around the room for an audience. “For you see, Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Darcy fought Wickham to preserve his own honor. He denied any impropriety and in fact accused Mr. Wickham of being the father.”
The towel fell from Elizabeth’s nerveless fingers. “He thinks I lay with Wickham?”
“Half of Meryton witnessed Mr. Darcy’s statement,” Caroline confirmed with obvious satisfaction. “When Wickham made his accusations, Mr. Darcy quite clearly stated that Lieutenant Wickham had compromised you and was attempting to shift blame onto an innocent gentleman. He fought for the Darcy name, not yours.”
Elizabeth felt the chamber spinning around her. This morning, she had knelt beside Darcy’s bleeding form, consumed with guilt for her role in bringing him to such a pass. Now she discovered that even facing death, he had chosen to destroy her rather than accept responsibility for their shared scandal.
“I hate him!” she screamed, surprised by the venom in her voice.
Mr. Bennet entered the parlor, red-faced and out of breath. “What is this I hear? A duel with Elizabeth in the middle?”
“Papa,” Elizabeth said with relief. Surely her father, with his keen intellect and skeptical nature, would not believe this absurd fabrication. “You cannot credit these rumors.”
Mr. Bennet’s expression remained inscrutable. “I credit that you have been gravely wronged, Lizzy, though the exact nature of that wrong remains unclear to me.”
“I am not with child,” she stated flatly. “Not by Mr. Darcy, not by Lieutenant Wickham, not by anyone. I have never engaged in… improper relations with any man.”
“I believe you,” Mr. Bennet said, though his tone lacked conviction. “However, belief matters little in the face of society’s judgment. The rumor exists. The damage is done.”
“So I am to accept that my reputation is destroyed by a lie?” Elizabeth demanded.
“You are to accept the reality of your situation,” Mr. Bennet replied, his usual sardonic humor absent. “Whether true or false, the allegation has been made publicly. Wickham has fled. Darcy lies grievously wounded. And you, my dear, are caught in the middle of a scandal that has already spread throughout the county.”
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, was conducting rapid calculations. “But if Mr. Darcy claims Lieutenant Wickham is the father, and Lieutenant Wickham claims Mr. Darcy is responsible… well, someone must take responsibility for the child!”
“There is no child!” Elizabeth shouted, her composure finally shattering completely.
The chamber fell silent. Every eye turned to her, expressing pity, skepticism, or barely concealed excitement at witnessing such a spectacular loss of dignity.
Sir William Lucas cleared his throat with officious gravity. “Miss Elizabeth, I fear that whether or not a child currently exists is rather beside the point. The accusations have been made, witnesses have been named, and reputations have been irreparably damaged.”
“Sir William means,” Mr. Bennet said with grim precision, “you are now trapped between two equally unpalatablealternatives. Either you are carrying Darcy’s child, or you are carrying Wickham’s. Society will accept no third option.”
Elizabeth stared at her father, certain the morning’s trauma had affected her hearing. “But I am innocent of both charges!”
“Innocence,” Sir William replied with a tone of ponderous wisdom, “is a luxury that circumstances no longer permit you to claim.”
