Graham made a note in his book, his movements deliberate enough to be noticed without being intrusive. “And Mr. Wickham’s role in these events?” he asked, his tone suggesting merely professional interest.
Sir William’s discomfort increased visibly. “It is not my place to speculate on private matters,” he demurred. “Suffice it to say that Miss Elizabeth’s departure was followed by certain… rumors… that linked her absence to Mr. Wickham. When these reached Mr. Collins’s ears, he withdrew his attentions from my own Charlotte, citing concerns about association with the Bennet family.”
Darcy had heard differently from Mary that Mr. Collins had continued to pressure the rest of the Bennet daughters until the younger ones were forced to seek guardianship with their uncles. Perhaps Mr. Collins hedged his bets.
Lady Lucas entered the room carrying a tea tray. Her appearance triggered no recognition in Darcy’s mind, though Mary had described her as a woman perpetually comparing herself to her neighbors.
“Sir William, you did not inform me we had guests,” she chided, setting the tray on a small table with practiced precision. “Mr. Darcy, what an unexpected pleasure. We had heard such concerning reports of your health.”
“Your husband has been most helpful in clarifying certain matters,” Darcy replied, rising briefly in acknowledgment of her arrival. “We were discussing the unfortunate events surrounding Mr. Wickham’s time in Hertfordshire.”
Lady Lucas’s expression tightened, her lips compressing into a thin line of disapproval. “That man,” she said with uncharacteristic vehemence, “caused more distress to respectable families than anyone in recent memory. My poor Charlotte—well, it is not to be spoken of.”
Darcy accepted a cup of tea, using the moment to consider his approach. “May I inquire as to the specific nature of these rumors? As Mr. Wickham’s activities have affected my own affairs rather significantly, I am attempting to establish a pattern of his behavior.”
Lady Lucas glanced at her husband, who gave a small nod of permission. “It was said,” she began, her voice dropping despite the absence of servants in the room, “that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been… compromised… by Mr. Wickham during his time with the militia. That when this became known to her family, she fled rather than face the consequences.”
“Though others claimed it was Mr. Collins who compromised her,” Sir William added, his tone suggesting he found this version less credible. “The rumors varied depending on who told them.”
“Did these rumors come from Wickham himself?” he asked, keeping his tone one of detached curiosity rather than personal interest.
“It is hard to ascertain.” Sir William rubbed his beard. “Initially, it was believed that Wickham played a more significant role, but news came from London that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had given birth to a child. Some say a son, others a daughter, and sentiment turned to Mr. Collins.”
“Why would that be?” Darcy took a sip of tea to quell the fury at all the lies destroying Elizabeth’s reputation.
“Ah, now that is quite an enigma.” Sir William leaned back in his chair. “Although Mr. Collins disdained any connection to the Bennet scandal, a neighboring magistrate relayed a letter he’d received questioning his conduct during the winter in question. It does suggest a certain degree of guilt on his part, and we are indeed gratified that our Charlotte had made an escape from any association with him.”
“Most curious,” Darcy murmured. “Have there been reports that Miss Elizabeth had married another gentleman?”
“That is a possibility.” Sir William stroked his beard, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “I’ve always maintained that Miss Elizabeth was too perceptive to be trapped into a compromised situation. Most likely, she is in seclusion along with her sister, Mary. Lydia and Kitty have been given over to their Aunt Philips.”
“Your perception of Miss Elizabeth is indeed astute.” Darcy’s mind was already racing ahead to their next steps. “Sir William, might I impose upon your knowledge of local commerce? I would be most interested in obtaining a list of the merchants to whom Mr.Wickham owed significant debts. As part of my investigation into his activities, I intend to settle these accounts personally.”
Sir William’s expression brightened considerably at this unexpected generosity. “Most commendable, Mr. Darcy. I would be happy to provide such information. Waters the tailor, as I mentioned, and there was also Johnson at the bootmaker’s, Thompson who keeps the haberdashery, and I believe several of the innkeepers had outstanding accounts as well.”
Graham noted each name methodically. “Approximate sums, if you recall them, would be most helpful,” he suggested.
As Sir William began recounting the financial particulars of Wickham’s fraudulent activities, Darcy found his thoughts returning to Elizabeth. The image of her facing such malicious falsehoods alone, cast out from her family home with no means of defending herself, created an unyielding ache in his chest.
“There is one other matter,” Darcy said when Sir William had exhausted his knowledge of Wickham’s debts. “I understand that a clergyman—Reverend Michaels—was traveling through the area around the time of these events. His testimony might prove valuable to establishing the timeline of certain occurrences.”
“Michaels?” Sir William frowned in concentration. “The name is not immediately familiar, though numerous clergymen pass through Meryton on their journeys. The current vicar might recall such a visitor, or perhaps Mr. Collins, who was staying at Longbourn during that period.”
“Mr. Collins,” Darcy repeated, his interest sharpening. “Is he still in the area?”
“Oh no,” Lady Lucas interjected. “After the unpleasantness with the Bennets, he returned to Kent, but I understand Lady Catherine withdrew her support when the rumors reached her ears. I believe he now serves as curate at a parish near Barnet.”
Barnet. The word sent a jolt through Darcy’s system, triggering a cascade of fragmentary images—rain lashing against windows, Elizabeth’s face illuminated by candlelight, the weight of his signet ring as he pressed it into her palm. He gripped the arm of his chair, struggling to maintain his composure as the fragments threatened to overwhelm him.
Graham, noting his distress, smoothly continued the conversation. “Near Barnet, you say? How fortuitous—we had planned to journey in that direction after concluding our business in Hertfordshire. Perhaps we might call upon him for clarification on certain points.”
“I cannot imagine he would welcome such an interview,” Lady Lucas said with evident satisfaction. “His reduced circumstances have made him rather… bitter… regarding the entire affair. Though I suppose the authority of someone of Mr. Darcy’s standing might compel his cooperation.”
With the formalities of departure arranged, Darcy and Graham soon found themselves back in the carriage, heading toward Longbourn. The Lucas family’s revelations had confirmed much of what Darcy had suspected while adding new dimensions to Wickham’s scheme.
“Wickham’s thoroughness is almost admirable,” Graham observed, reviewing his notes as the carriage rolled through the Hertfordshire countryside. “He created a narrative that not only destroyed Miss Elizabeth’s reputation but also provided convenient explanation for his own departure.”
“And ensured she would have no safe haven to which she might return,” Darcy added, his voice tight with controlled fury. “Had she attempted to contradict his version of events, it would have appeared as desperate denial rather than truth.”
