"Hmmm, yes, I see," I said with much irony.
"Wickham attempted to elope with my sister," Mr. Darcy blurted. He looked alarmed, as if he had not intended to reveal this information—and, indeed, I am certain he had not—but I had baited him and for some reason he had yielded to it.
There was a long silence and then, as if deciding his revelation needed explanation, he continued, "No doubt Mr. Wickham has spoken to you of the living he was to receive upon its becoming vacant?"
I nodded.
"But perhaps he neglected to inform you that after my father's death he announced his intention of never taking orders and instead studying the law. I must admit I was relieved at the alteration of his plans. I knew he should not be a clergyman for I had upon several instances observed a certain viciousness in his nature—a total want of principle.
"He accepted three thousand pounds in lieu of the living and I thought any duty I might have to him thus fulfilled. However, three years later when the living which had been designed upon him became available, he applied to me by letter for the presentation. It seems the study of law had been a mere pretense; he had frittered away his legacy on a life of idleness and dissipation. I declined his request.
"I do not know exactly what lies he has imposed upon you, but doubtless his abuse of me to others was as violent as his reproaches to myself. Our acquaintance was severed—I had hoped permanently, but last summer. . . .
"My sister's fortune is thirty thousand pounds. This was no doubt the primary object of Wickham's scheme, though revenging himself upon me was perhaps another incentive. Georgiana was persuaded to believe herself in love with him and consented to an elopement. She was but fifteen at the time which must excuse her imprudence. Had I not joined her unexpectedly just days before the planned elopement—had her guilt at causing me grief not induced her to reveal their plans—I dare not think of the consequences."
Mr. Darcy had begun his speech in his usual controlled manner, but at the finish his rage was obvious. Even if I had thought his righteous anger counterfeit, I could not doubt the truth of his words. All my prior observation of Mr. Darcy had taught me that his sister was of utmost importance to him and he would never invent such a story about her.
Mr. Wickham was a liar. And I was an utter fool.
"Mr. Darcy," I whispered. I know not what I intended to say. I had never been soembarrassed—never so contrite. Perhaps I might have made some attempt at repentance had I been given time to gather my thoughts, but Mr. Darcy was in no mood to hear my apologies.
He moved towards me, ire still radiating from his eyes. He did not halt until he was standing immediately before me, closer than he had been when we had danced. Then he spoke threateningly, condescendingly, "No word of this conversation shall leave this room. If I hear the slightest whisper—"
My anger, as if sparked by the fire in his eyes, flared to life once more. I interrupted him, "I realize you must think me a credulous imbecile, but I am not a silly gossip and I have sense enough not to sully the reputation of an innocent lady."
"I am glad to hear it," he sneered.
I bit my tongue to keep myself from making further incendiary remarks. My anger ebbed and I noticed then how indecently close we were standing. In the heat of the moment I had taken an unconscious step forward, egged on by the menacing manner in which he towered over me. Any attempt to intimidate me is always met with challenge. I would never change this fact about myself, but I will admit it has got me into scrapes, this being the worst of them.
I began to pull away but a slight tug from the front of my gown accompanied by the soft sound of fine muslin rending stilled me. The ornamentation on the bodice of my gown had by some means become entangled with a button on Mr. Darcy's coat. I gasped in horror and Mr. Darcy grabbed my shoulder as if sensing my impulse to jerk away.
"Calm yourself. Be still."
Our garments were still hooked together and any further movement would make the small rip in my gown a great gaping tear. For a while I stood dumbly as he tried to solve our dilemma, it was not until his hand had brushed my bosom twice and his face had gone red up to the tops of his ears that I realized I really ought to be the one handling the situation.
"Iwill do that," I said, pushing his hands away.
"I suppose I should apologize," I added.
Darcy made no reply, but after a long silent moment I heard him chuckle dryly. I glanced up at him in surprise.
"What is amusing?" I asked, more accusingly than I intended.
"I am wondering when should I expect this apology."
With as much sincerity as I could muster, I looked him in the eyes and said, "I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. I beg your pardon."
He held my gaze, studying me far longer than was comfortable. Then his eyes fell to my lips. Suddenly the inappropriate distance between us felt inappropriate because it was too great and I had the absurd notion he was about to close it.
And then the door crashed open. We were at the far side of the room with book shelves to block the entrants view of us which gave us a few moments in which we might have freed ourselves, but it was not enough. Despite his warnings of staying calm and remaining still, Darcy leaped away from me rending my gown most thoroughly.
My bounty, as Mrs. Long put it, was no more exposed by the tear in my bodice than it had been before. My chemisette remained perfectly intact, guarding my modesty, but that really did not matter. Mr. Darcy and I had been found alone together in suggestive circumstances and Mrs. Long was willing to make all sorts of suggestions to anyone who would listen.
Mr. Collins was surprisingly tactful. He flushed darkly, muttered something about my modesty, and then quit the room. Mr. Darcy, without a word, followed him. Mrs. Long stayed with me until my mother arrived all the while making shocked exclamations such as: "Oh, Miss Elizabeth—oh, your poor mother—whatever shall be done with you now?"
"What happened with Mr. Darcy?" Charlotte asked, jolting me out of my memories. Her expression was most concerned. I must have been brooding a long while.
Oh, goodness. How could I explain all that had passed between Mr. Darcy and me?
