Darcy rubbed a hand over his eyes. “She never forgave her lot and made certain her son heard her every complaint. By the time she passed, she had planted in him a sense of grievance and poisoned everything. My father pitied him, perhaps too much, and when George went with me first to Eton, then to Cambridge, my father indulged him. At school, I noticed the first stirrings of discontent, and soon he fell in with bullies and troublemakers. At Cambridge, Wickham turned to gambling…and other vices I would not mention to a lady; matters that would have seen him sent down, had my family’s name not shielded him.”
When Darcy looked up to meet her gaze, Elizabeth appeared stricken.
“Do you mean to say that your father had no notion of his godson’s true character?
A sardonic curl touched his mouth. “I tried to tell him once. He dismissed it as jealousy and refused to hear another word. In time, I resolved to distance myself from Wickham. When I completed my studies at Cambridge, I began to assume some of the responsibilities at Pemberley. My sister was so young when our mother died and with her loss, Georgiana clung to me for comfort. And then…father died, too—so suddenly.” His voice caught, roughened by the memory, and he paused, choking back tears.Do not cry. I will not cry.
The rest was difficult, but Darcy pressed on. “Then came the reading of the will. George arrived at Pemberley with everyexpectation of being treated as a second son. My father left him one thousand pounds, and the promise of the living at Kympton when it should fall vacant. It was not enough. His look, one of disgust, of entitlement, I shall never forget.”
“He told me of the living. He claimed that when it fell vacant, you denied him.”
Darcy let out a low, humorless laugh. “Denied? Yes, of course I did! But he neglected to tell you that within weeks of my father's death, he wrote to me, declaring his resolution never to take orders. In lieu of the preferment, I paid him three thousand pounds—four thousand in total, including the thousand already bequeathed him. I can produce the papers, if you wish. Were he a better man, possessing habits fit for a clergyman, I would have honored my father’s wishes in an instant. But he had other plans. He took the money, went to London under the guise of studying law, and within three years it was gone.”
“Four thousand pounds? That is…that is a considerable sum. He could live very well on the interest with some economy. And yet he is now in the militia. What did he do with it?”
“I know not. When I denied him the living, he swore revenge. I thought the matter ended there and all contact between us severed, but I was mistaken. Last summer, he intruded on my notice in the worst possible fashion. I returned from a brief journey to find that, in my absence, he had been courting my sister in secret—with the collusion of her companion.”
Elizabeth paled. “Miss Darcy…”
“Georgiana was but fifteen. She believed herself in love. She trusted him. When I returned earlier than expected, she confessed everything. I turned the companion out of the house at once and made it clear to Wickham that he would never again cross our threshold. He left, but only after lashing out at Georgiana most abominably. The dear girl has yet to fully recover her spirits.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. Darcy could see he had shocked her. When she spoke again, her tone seemed remorseful.
“And then you encountered him here and have borne his slander in silence.”
“I saw no benefit in exposing him. My sister’s suffering is not public discussion, nor is my family’s honor.”
“I can only admire your forbearance. I do not believe I could be silent in the face of such…treachery.”
Darcy looked at the ground, elbows on his knees. When her feet appeared in his line of vision, he looked up.
Sheepishly, with contrition in her eyes, she whispered, “I believe it is me who owes you a rather large apology. I have misjudged you. Indeed, it is worse than that—I trusted a man I barely knew and judged you without the benefit of your account. That was badly done of me, Mr. Darcy, and I am sincerely sorry.”
Darcy rose, taking her hand before he quite realized what he was about. “No apology is needed, Miss Elizabeth, but I accept it with gratitude. My behavior gave you little reason to think well of me when we first met.” It was then that he noticed the ribbon in her hair, a glimmer of violet against the dark strands, barely visible under her bonnet. He could not look away, and the words he might have spoken died on his lips.
“It is lovely, is it not?” She smiled coyly and reached up to touch the adornment where it slipped free from her bonnet. “Shall I tell you a secret, Mr. Darcy? You are a friend, and friends share such things, after all.”
“Of course. The words stumbled from him.She wishes to confide in me! Surely, that is a very good sign.
“I have a secret admirer.” Her eyes brightened with a spark of mischief.
Oh, what joy to see her smile once more.
“I have received no fewer than four gifts from this mysterious gentleman—or so I must assume, given the nature of the tokens.I search earnestly for some clue, some hint of his identity, yet I cannot arrive at any conclusion.”
Darcy allowed himself the ghost of a smile. There was no speculation,no suspicion in her gaze as he had observed the other evening.I stand here before her, and she cannot imagine her admirer might be me.The thought amused him even as it stung. Did she dismiss the notion because she deemed him incapable of such affection? Or did she still think him too above the daughter of a country squire?
“Shall I help you discover his identity?” he asked, before he thought better of it.
“Could you?” She sounded doubtful.
“Gentlemen speak of many things when there are no ladies present.” He stumbled a little over his words as he attempted to conjure up a reason why he might be of use.
“Is that what you speak of when we ladies withdraw after dinner for the drawing room?” She laughed. “And I thought you shared snuff and drank port whilst you spoke of your conquests and hunting exploits.”
He chuckled. “Well…that is not theonlything of which we speak. Sometimes we discuss pugilism or the war… And sometimes we speak of ladies.” He waggled his brows—something very out of character, but it elicited another laugh, and so he did not mind.
“Is that so? Tell me, sir, how often do you speak of ladies? Am I to believe your words are…complimentary.” She stepped closer. Darcy mimicked her movements until they were almost touching. He tilted his head down a little. She was so close, so tempting. Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she licked her lips. Her gaze drifted to his mouth. A loud crack sounded somewhere nearby, and they both jumped before taking a few steps back. The extra distance helped Darcy clear his head, and he tried to make light of her last comment.
