“I could use some more light,” he told Wickham, who was still yelling for help through the window.
It was Elizabeth who approached him with a candle—he could smell her scent even before he laid eyes on her.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Do not thank me, you are working to the benefit of us all,” she responded in the same low tone.
Suddenly, voices were heard from the other side of the door.
“Who is in there?” they heard Bingley asking with precipitation.
“Bingley, it is me,” Darcy responded calmly. “I am here with Wickham and with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I am trying to unlock the door from the inside.”
“But are any of you harmed? We heard some cries for help,” Bingley continued.
“We are all well, Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth responded. “Except for some wounded pride and fear of the truth,” she added, and Darcy could not conceal his smile.
Despite the painful revelation of her true feelings, he could not avoid admiring her spirit and wit, even in this most difficult situation.
Wickham came closer too and hit the door. “You should try to break the door down, Mr Bingley! Bring some men and break it,” he insisted.
“Breaking a heavy, wooden door would be a task destined for failure,” Darcy said. “Wickham, keep your voice down, you will frighten the entire party. Why on earth are you screaming? You are inside a library, not fighting wolves in the woods!”
Wickham glared at Darcy with enmity for being scolded in front of a woman. Darcy however ignored him and continued his endeavour.
On the other side of the door, the music stopped and anxious voices could be heard.
Finally, after minutes that seemed as long as hours, Darcy’s knife dropped to the floor and the door unlocked. It slowly widened, revealing a large gathering of familiar faces, staring at them in astonishment.
“Lizzy dear, I was so worried!” Jane said. “I did not know where you were!”
“I am sorry for worrying anyone. All is well, only a broken doorknob,” Elizabeth replied.
“Lizzy, whose coat is that?” Lydia cried over Jane’s shoulder. Only then, did she realise she was still wearing Darcy’s coat, while he was wearing only his vest over his shirt.
She blushed with embarrassment, though she had no reason to be so. Still, she offered an explanation. “The window was wide open and it was rather cold in the library.”
“I will send a servant to make up the fire,” Bingley declared, ready to be of help.
“Well, if we have finished yelling and wandering around the house, supper is served,” Miss Bingley said, with a derisive, jeering expression.
The entire party walked to supper together, Mrs Bennet complaining about her nerves and about Elizabeth’s disobedience. Near her, Mr Collins expressed his opinion about proper doorknobs and quoted Lady Catherine on the subject.
Elizabeth, arm in arm with Jane, tried to gather her composure while reflecting on the happenstance. Bingley wasclose to them and Darcy slightly behind. Wickham rejoined his fellow officers and hurried towards the dinner table, filling their glasses.
If someone had told Elizabeth that within an hour she would have changed her opinion of Mr Wickham, Mr Darcy and herself, she would have dismissed such claims with utter mockery. And still, it had occurred, simply by overhearing one conversation.
Such embarrassment would have been easily avoided if she had used her wisdom, or at least had not ignored the warnings from her sister Jane and even her father.
How a man like Wickham could have all the appearance of goodness, show such amiable manners and handsome features, and yet hide such a duplicitous nature and untrusting character was a mystery, and a lesson she had learned the hard way. Only hours earlier, she would have easily argued with anyone to his benefit, while condemning Darcy for his pride, vanity and lack of sensibility.
During supper, Elizabeth could not help glancing from Darcy to Wickham. Both seemed to have returned to their usual selves: Darcy aloof, paying attention to his glass, looking around with apparent disdain; Wickham at the other side of the table, surrounded by his fellow officers, with Colonel Forster’s wife, Lydia, and Kitty sitting close to him and laughing at his jokes.
How different everything suddenly appeared to her and how clearly she saw details to which she had been blind before! She specifically remembered Wickham asking her how well she knew Darcy and only after she openly expressed her ill opinion of him, did he begin relating his defamatory story.
What troubled Elizabeth the most was the brief mention of Miss Darcy being hurt again by Wickham. Mr Darcy’s gravetone still sounded clear in her mind, and it made Wickham’s cold, cynical statement even more disturbing.
She looked at her younger sisters, Lydia and Kitty—enchanted by Wickham’s conversation—and chills ran down her spine. She recalled herself behaving the same way only hours before and for a moment, she met Wickham’s gaze as he glanced towards her.
