“They are perfectly adequate for their intended purpose,” Elizabeth replied with studied indifference. “I merely hoped for some indication of… that is, some word about Mr. Darcy’s health and spirits during their travels.”
The truth? She’d become convinced that she had treated Fitzwilliam with more harshness and cruelty than warranted. His silence could only mean that he avoided thinking of her. His only goal was to secure his son’s inheritance. Hadn’t she told him their marriage would be in name only? That she had no desire for affection or intimacy? That he had lost her heart forever?
Mary, who had been quietly mending one of William’s small shirts, glanced up with the sort of perceptive look Elizabeth had learned to dread. “You hoped for a personal message from your husband.”
The blunt statement brought heat to Elizabeth’s cheeks. “I hoped for some assurance that he remains well, yes. Graham’s discretion, while admirable, leaves much to the imagination.”
“Graham is protecting your feelings,” Mary observed with her usual directness. “Which suggests there is something requiring protection.”
“Perhaps.” Elizabeth conceded, setting down the letter. “I wonder about their visit to Longbourn. Graham only mentions it in passing.”
“I doubt they obtained any useful information from Mr. and Mrs. Bennet,” Mary said dryly, refusing to acknowledge them as parents.
“No, I daresay Mrs. Bennet had many excuses for her abominable behavior,” Elizabeth agreed. “Still, I had hoped Darcy would share his progress with me personally.”
Lady Eleanor graced her with a sympathetic glance. “He could be dealing with his memory gaps. Perhaps he has discovered emotions that could overwhelm his ability to express in words. Fitzwilliam has always been a sensitive boy, a careful boy…”
She trailed off as the sound of carriage wheels on gravel drew everyone’s attention toward the front drive. A hired hackney coach of distinct inferior quality drew to a halt before the main entrance.
“Were we expecting anyone?” Georgiana inquired, setting aside her embroidery.
“Not to my knowledge.” Lady Eleanor rose to observe the visitor more clearly. “Though the quality of the conveyance suggests someone of modest means rather than a social caller.”
The butler’s entrance confirmed their speculation. “Lady Eleanor, there is a gentleman requesting an audience regarding matters of considerable importance to the household. He claims to have information about documents pertaining to… family concerns.”
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened at the deliberately vague phrasing. “What name did he give?”
“Mr. George Wickham, madam. He requests privacy for his discussion with Lady Blackmore, claiming the matters are of a delicate nature.”
The silence that followed this announcement was profound. Elizabeth could feel Mary’s sharp gaze upon her, while Georgiana’s face had gone pale at the mention of Wickham’s name. Lady Eleanor turned from the window, her expression stony.
“Shall we hear him out?” she asked.
“Absolutely not,” Mary said. “Under no circumstances should that man be received in this house.”
“I agree,” Georgiana added quickly. “Nothing good can come from any association with Mr. Wickham.”
Elizabeth, however, found her mind racing. Wickham’s appearance at Bellfield could only mean desperation had driven him to attempt some final gambit. No matter her personal opinions, Wickham had information, perhaps twisted, but still useful.
“I believe we should receive him,” Elizabeth said.
Three pairs of eyes turned toward her with expressions ranging from shock to alarm.
“Elizabeth,” Lady Eleanor said carefully, “I hardly think?—”
“Hear me out,” Elizabeth interrupted, rising to pace the length of the drawing room as her plan took shape. “Wickham would not dare approach this household unless he possessed something he believed to be valuable. Judging from the shabby coach, he appears to be in dire need of funds.”
“We’ve already established that he knows nothing,” Lady Eleanor said. “Or so he claims.”
“Then he most definitely knows a lot about my circumstances,” Elizabeth said. “George Wickham is nothing if not thorough. He portrayed himself as the steward of Pemberley after Darcy was attacked. I suspect he made off with documents as Darcy’s pockets were empty when he was found.”
“Even if that were true,” Mary pointed out, “what would prevent him from simply taking whatever payment he demands and disappearing again?”
“Because I intend to be present during his interview with Lady Eleanor,” Elizabeth replied with growing conviction. “Wickham believes me to be a discredited woman grateful for any assistance in legitimizing my position. If I play the role of desperate supplicant, he may reveal more than he intends while attempting to establish the value of whatever he offers.”
Lady Eleanor’s expression shifted from alarm to grudging consideration. “You propose to deceive him into incriminating himself?”
“I propose to discover exactly what documents he possesses and how he came by them,” Elizabeth corrected. “Information that Mr. Darcy and Graham can use to ensure Wickham faces appropriate consequences for his crimes.”
